The Survivor of a Forgotten Past
by lkcrm94
Summary: Sequel to 'The Relic of a Forgotten Past'/'A Discovery', following the last surviving subject from the Utopia Project as he ventures into a world different to the one he left behind.
1. I

**Author's note: Well, readers, here is the sequel to my previous Redwall fanfic, ****_The Relic of a Forgotten Past_****. At first I had no intention of writing a sequel because I was originally happy leaving it with its rather grim ending (and also because I didn't want a human running around Mossflower), but I started getting ideas for another Redwall fanfic not long after I uploaded it. At first it had nothing to do with that until some readers suggested I write a sequel, and when I looked back at the fanfic I thought the readers were right that it ****_did_**** end a little too vaguely, so this spurred me on to incorporate the ideas I had into a sequel. If you haven't read ****_The Relic of a Forgotten Past_**** yet, I'd recommend you read it before reading this story because it helps set the scene to a degree.**

**This is also the first fanfic I will be uploading in serial format. Before, I would only upload a multi-chapter story when I had completed all the chapters, but I knew this particular fanfic was going to take a long time to write (and to be honest, I don't know how long it will take) and I didn't want to leave a huge gap of time between my previous fanfic and this one completed in one go. Regardless of how long it takes for me to complete this fanfic (hopefully it won't take years for me to finish), I vow to finish it no matter how long it takes for me to add new chapters.**

**This first chapter won't feature any Redwall characters – Mossflower won't be seen for a few chapters, so unfortunately you'll have to wait before we get out of the 'human' setting. I just need to set the scene first, and that means no Mossflower for a few chapters. I hope you're fine with that.**

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"Yes, General? …_Oh no_…Okay, thanks for letting me know…"

Captain Helen Grant took the communicator from her ear and stared blankly ahead towards the grey, desolate landscape of barren fields and hills. It was hard to think that it was summer, with the thick grey sky and the empty field in the lifeless countryside that she and her crew of nine people, all of them wearing maroon-coloured boiler suits, were making their way through. The only sign of life they could see was each other – no plants, no wildlife; the landscape was just a hollow shell of what it had once been.

"What is it, Captain?" asked one of her worried crew.

"That was the General. He's told me that the order's been made on both sides."

"You mean…?"

"Yes," Captain Grant turned to the rest of the crew and raised her voice so she could be heard over the harsh, bitter wind. "The nearest point of impact is going to be less than five miles northwest of here. We have to get to safety – _now_! We haven't got as much time as I thought we had. Everyone, run as fast as you can!"

Upon hearing their captain's urgent command, the group started to run. There was an instant sense of panic amongst the crew, but none of them wanted to show it. As they darted across the field, dust was kicked up behind them, creating a fog that made the crew members towards the back choke and splutter. The ground wasn't flat either; there were many bumps and the carpet of dust that lay across the ground was so dry it made it hard for the crew to run across without constantly stumbling. Despite this, they carried on running; it was a matter of life or death – theirs.

"Quick! Everyone hurry! We only have a few minutes until impact!" yelled Captain Grant. "Into the tunnel, quickly!"

The people were hurrying towards an opening in the ground at the far edge of the field. The opening was indicated by a small wooden sign that was close to falling over in the ground. Captain Grant was one of the first of the group to get to the opening, but she didn't climb down into it straight away. When she got there, she stood by the opening and waited for the rest of the crew to get in before her, and as they ran past her she shouted words of encouragement at them. Once she was the last of the group above ground, she dashed into the opening after the others.

The opening was the entrance to a long tunnel that stretched on and on down into the depths of the earth. The ceiling wasn't that high, forcing the tallest people in the group to duck their heads down a little, and it was so narrow they could only make their way down in single file. The tunnel was lit up by a series of small lights that were built into the tunnel walls. Despite there being a light every few feet along the tunnel walls, they weren't that bright so it was a little bit of a struggle to see their way and what they were stepping on. The people were hurrying faster than they had ever before, and the only sounds they could hear were of their footsteps and their heavy breathing. They were trying to run as fast as they could, but the tunnel was narrow and it was easy for them to lose their footing, so they were trying to be careful not to trip over; if somebody fell now, it could end in all of them losing time and their lives. Time was running out fast, and with each step they took they got closer to safety. There was no giving up now.

As they descended deeper into the Earth, the people arrived at a turn at the end of the tunnel. They were almost there! The group hurried around the corner to arrive in a large cavern that, like the tunnels, was lit up by several lights built into the walls. In the centre of the cavern was their goal: a huge dome made out of some kind of metal – the Utopiadome. An opening was on the side of the dome, and a bright light shone from within.

"We've got less than a minute until impact!" shouted Captain Grant. "Everyone, get inside!"

There were no questions asked. The group hurried towards the dome and through the opening on the side. Like before, Captain Grant waited until the others were inside before going inside the dome herself. Once she was in, she tripped over and fell to the floor.

"Close the doors! Both of them!"

A couple of the crew members rushed past her to the open door. The way the Utopiadome was built was so that it would have two doors – an interior one and an exterior one – and they were going to close the latter first. They grabbed onto it and started to close it shut. The door was heavy and the two people had to practically drag it shut, all the while hoping they would close it in time. After a moment, the door was shut. They turned a large handle on the door to lock it as well. As they ran back, another crew member pressed a button on the wall that closed the interior door. All the time, the group had been panting and gasping heavily after having run for their lives.

One of the crew members, a man in his early thirties with dark hair and a beard by the name of Alex Fraser, suddenly looked up with a frown.

"Listen…Can you hear that?" he asked.

The crew fell silent and looked up. A deep, faint rumbling sound could be heard from outside. It was quite low at first, but the rumbling was quickly increasing in volume.

"Is that…?" one crew member asked.

"Yes…" Captain Grant replied, almost whispering. She turned to the crew. "This is it! Everyone, brace yourselves!" she exclaimed.

"But surely we're safe in here, Captain?" asked one of the crew.

"We should be safe from the blast, but the Utopiadome is very likely going to shake when the explosion reaches us and some of us could get hurt if we're not careful; I don't want to take chances. Everyone, get down on the floor and cover your heads!"

The crew immediately dived to the floor. Some of them hid under the table, but most of them remained where they were. The rumbling was increasing with every second, making the group's hearts race faster than ever before.

Suddenly, the Utopiadome began to shake. It shook a little at first, but it quickly increased to the point where it felt like they were in the wrath of an earthquake. The people could do nothing but shut their eyes and cover their heads more with their arms as the deafening rumbling shook everything. Even though the Utopiadome had been specially designed to survive such a tremendous impact as this, it felt like the explosion was going to rip through the walls.

After what seemed like hours, the rumbling and shaking slowly began to subside. Nobody dared move until it stopped completely, but once it did, everyone looked up.

"Is everyone alright?" asked Captain Grant, her ears ringing.

A few groans of "Yes, Captain" spread across the room.

The crew members carefully picked themselves up, rubbing their heads. Some of them looked up at the ceiling, almost expecting it to collapse, but there was nothing.

"I don't believe it…" one crew member, a brown-haired man in his mid-twenties by the name of Stephen Davies, muttered as he stared upwards. "Our world, everything we knew, destroyed…"

"I know, it's horrible," Alex said softly. "Try not to get too down; we'll be out of here before you know it," he comforted.

"I'm just sad about the poor souls who were left outside," another crew member, an older man called Malcolm Bayfield, said. "There's no way anyone could've survived that. It's a pity it came to this. Nobody deserved it."

As they spoke, a horrible feeling was brewing in the pit of Captain Grant's stomach. "Speaking of others," she said, trying to distract herself from her thoughts, "Peter, could you send a message to Utopiadome 12? It was closer to the impact zone and I want to know how they're coping."

"Yes, Captain," Peter Harrison, a dark-haired man in his late thirties, replied. "But what if something happened to them? We can't leave the Utopiadome until the radiation levels outside are down, so we can't go to help them if they're in trouble. Even if the radiation levels were down, the heat outside would be lethal to even walk in."

"I know," said Captain Grant, "but I just want to put my mind at ease."

Peter headed over to the system of computers and sat down. The others gathered around him, watching over his shoulders to see what he was doing. Peter typed in some digits on the keyboard and spoke into a small microphone that was attached to the monitor directly in front of him.

"Hello, Utopiadome 12? Come in. This is Utopiadome 05. Do you…" He noticed the static on the monitor screen in front of him, instead of a visual from Utopiadome 12 like he was expecting. "Captain, there's no signal!"

"There isn't?" Captain Grant asked worriedly. "Try contacting Utopiadome 04. They're further away from the impact zone than us."

Again, Peter typed in some digits on the keyboard and spoke into the microphone.

"Hello…hello? This is…Captain, I'm not picking up their signal either." Like before, there was nothing but static.

"What's happened?" Captain Grant asked herself. "Greg, what do you make of this?"

A man in his late-twenties approached closer to the computers. His name was Gregory Clarke, and he was the group's specialist technician.

"I don't think it's the other Utopiadomes not producing a signal; I think it's us who aren't able to send or receive anything," Gregory said. "It was most likely caused by the blast – it's taken out something."

"Considering how strong the blast was, that wouldn't surprise me. So do you know how to fix our communication blackout?" Captain Grant asked.

Gregory exhaled and scratched his head. "I'll have to take a look inside the computers to see what's causing the problem. I'm just hoping it _is_ something to do with the computers; just if it's the exterior communication system that was damaged…"

He trailed off as he got to work.

The crew waited anxiously as Gregory investigated the problem with the broken communication. None of them said anything; they sat at the table and occasionally looked at one another or looked over to Gregory. If it weren't for the humming of the pipes and machinery around them, you would have heard a pin drop.

Eventually, Gregory stepped over to the others. They suddenly turned to him desperately.

"Well? Is it good or bad news?" asked Captain Grant.

Gregory looked to the floor and shook his head. "Bad, I'm afraid. The computers are all working fine. The reason behind our communication with the other Utopiadomes being cut off _is_ something to do with the exterior communication system. I'm not sure what the exact damage is, but the blast has wiped it out and the only way it can be fixed is by going outside –"

"– Which is impossible," Captain Grant finished. Gregory nodded. Although it was possible to unlock and open the door to the Utopiadome, the high levels of radiation outside would be too high to last in, not to mention opening the door would contaminate the interior and affect the crew, and they didn't have special suits to go outside in.

"Now we're _completely_ cut off from the outside world," one of the crew members commented.

A few others muttered nervously amongst themselves. The muttering gradually increased until all but a handful of the crew members were panicking and shouting. The only people who kept quiet were Captain Grant, Gregory, Alex and Stephen. Captain Grant and Gregory just watched the scene unfold before them while Alex and Stephen covered their ears from the voices. Stephen also ducked his head down a little as if it somewhat protected him from the panicking crew members. After a moment, Captain Grant finally raised a hand up in the air; she could take no more of this panicking.

"Be quiet!" she cried at the top of her voice.

There was silence as the crew turned to her.

"Now that I have your attention," Captain Grant said in a disgruntled tone, "I have to ask you all to stop this ridiculous panicking! It appears we don't have any way of communicating with the other Utopiadomes. However, that doesn't mean the Utopia Project will fail, at least for us. Our computers can still measure the radiation levels outside, as well as the time, date and geography of the Earth. We'll continue our stay in here as planned. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," was the reply.

"Right." Captain Grant surveyed the crew members before her. Although she had reassured them not to worry, they still had anxious looks on their faces. "For now I think we should rest. We've had to run here and we need to settle down. But the Utopia Project will not fail," she added.

The crew members sauntered away, talking amongst themselves. Some of them sat down at the table while the others headed into the sleeping quarters. Captain Grant turned to look at the static on the monitor and sighed.

"I _hope_ the project doesn't fail," she muttered to herself. "It must succeed. It _has_ to…"


	2. II

**Hamlet - Thanks for the kind review (it's actually one of the kindest reviews I think I've received). I'm glad you like this story so far, and I hope you enjoy the rest too.**

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Life inside the Utopiadome over the next few years was both exciting and stressful. Each day, the same routine took place: get up, have breakfast, divide the group between monitoring the radiation levels or anything else that was happening outside and making sure the machinery around the Utopiadome was working, lunch, swap the routines around, dinner, rest, discussions, supper, then bed. It got repetitive very quickly, but nobody argued because they all knew their survival was the most important factor. The only times the routine would change would be if it was someone's birthday or Christmas, but even then there wasn't too much change to the routine. The crew members all made friends with each other, but there was always a feeling of dread that something would go disastrously wrong. They had just barely made their way through the long tunnel from the surface to the cave and into the Utopiadome when they felt the blast from the surface. The Utopiadome survived the impact, but the communication devices used to contact other Utopiadomes had been damaged, and the only way to fix them was by going outside, which was out of the question. Nevertheless, the crew were all excited about finding out what the world would look like after their stay inside the Utopiadome was complete, and they all discussed their different thoughts about what they thought would await them outside.

The inside of the Utopiadome consisted of several rooms, the main control area being the biggest and the one where the crew spent most of their time. One wall consisted of a vast number of monitors and computers which the crew would use to keep track of the date and time, radiation levels and geography of the outside world. In the centre of the room were some chairs, covered with a red material and arranged in a circle, and next to it was a blue circular table with chairs around it. Another wall consisted of shelves which were stacked with boxes containing books and reels of film of what the outside world once looked like. The Utopiadome had been designed so that nothing inside that wasn't flesh and bone would decompose or degrade as long as the door to the outside was shut. This way, the books and reels of film would survive through the long wait and would be used when mankind repopulated the Earth in order to carry the knowledge they had already acquired to the next generation of mankind.

One of the other rooms housed the sleeping quarters for the crew, and another room connected to it led to a bathroom. There was also a room filled with plants that grew under artificial sunlight and water that would sprayed through the room like a mist and then recycled; this was where the crew got their food and water from. Each Utopiadome also had a room that housed a collection of metallic pods in the shape of coffins, but these pods weren't intended for placing the dead in; they were to be used for placing the people in suspended animation for long periods of time until the radiation levels outside had settled.

Gregory Clarke was inside the pod room of the Utopiadome, kneeling down beside one of the pods and reaching inside it while trying to peer inside to see what he was doing. Beside him on the floor was a large toolbox. Although the crew took part in monitoring the outside world and the mechanics of the Utopiadome, each crew member had a specific secondary job. Gregory was the specialist technician and his eyes were focussed entirely on the machinery in front of him, rarely blinking. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. He let his right hand fall to the floor, making the tool in his hand clink as it made contact with the surface of the floor, and he rubbed his forehead with his other hand.

Something had gone terribly wrong. After the first few years of working, the crew had been scheduled to place themselves into the pods for a hundred years; they would then emerge and monitor the outside levels again to see how much the radiation had dropped. Then they would place themselves back into suspended animation again for another hundred years and repeat this process until it was safe to leave the Utopiadome and head back to the surface. However, as they had prepared to place themselves into suspended animation for the first time, the crew noticed puddles on the floor next to the pods. Fearing an electrical hazard, Captain Grant ordered everyone to wait in the main control area while Gregory investigated what was happening. Much to his surprise, he had made a horrifying discovery…

"Any progress?"

Gregory turned at the voice – a female voice. Approaching him was Captain Grant. Through the door were the rest of the crew, anxiously watching and waiting for any news.

"Captain, I've got some bad news."

Gregory reached into the insides of the pod and took out a small piece of machinery. There was a clear liquid dripping from it.

"You see this liquid?" Gregory asked. "That's the preserving fluid that gets used in the pods to put us into suspended animation. The tanks containing it have ruptured and the fluid has leaked out. It's damaged the engines and mechanical bodies, and that's what these puddles on the floor is. Even if I manage to repair the engines, the pods would be useless without the fluid because that's what places the user into suspended animation as well as stop the pods from overheating, and we can't just reuse the fluid that's leaked because it gets contaminated and loses its properties if it's exposed to air for too long."

Captain Grant put a hand to her head as she stared at the puddles all through the room. "I can't believe it…"

"There _was_ concern when these were being developed that this could happen. All the strongest materials used for this sort of thing were used to build the war defences and the Utopiadomes. The pods were built with all that was left, which was…well…the scraps, for the most part."

"Of course…" Captain Grant realised. "I remember now when the pods were first developed, they said there was a chance they could fail…but for it to happen on _this_ scale…" Her voice rose a little in frustration as she stepped back towards the other crew members. "I said at that meeting that all Utopiadomes should carry spare preserving fluid in case this happened, but my request was refused. How could they be so blind?" She turned back to Gregory and approached him. "How many pods are still active and working?"

"Only one," he answered. "The rest of the pods all have the same problem except for that one." He pointed at one of the pods near the back of the room.

"I see…" Captain Grant said.

"What should we do?" asked one of the crew. "We can't call for help. We're stranded and helpless."

Captain Grant stared at the floor. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. The Utopia Project was turning into a disaster, at least for the people in this Utopiadome. Their worst fears had been realised: they would be spending the rest of their lives trapped below the desolate Earth with no chance of seeing what would become of it. Only one pod was working.

"Are you _absolutely_ certain there's nothing we can do to fix the other pods?" she asked the technician.

"Absolutely, Captain."

Captain Grant walked slowly away. All eyes were on her as she stepped out into the main room.

Finally she spoke. "Then there's only one thing we can do now…"

Captain Grant made her way over to the table. On the table was a collection of drinking cups, each one belonging to a particular crew member. Each cup had a lid with a white straw inserted through it. Captain Grant took out each of the straws and placed them down on the table in a small bundle.

"We draw straws," she said.

The crew began to mutter amongst themselves. Had she gone mad?

"You can't be serious, Captain!" cried a voice.

"I'm being completely serious here," she replied. She took a red pen from her pocket and drew around the tip of one of the straws.

"Here's how this will work: we all close our eyes and take a straw. Whoever has the straw with the red tip in the end gets to use the pod, and whoever it is must be put in suspended animation straight away. The pod will be set so that it won't open until someone manually switches it off rather than have it automatically open after a century. The rest of the pods, we will use as coffins; if the rest of us are going to die in here, I don't want us to turn into savages. Have I made myself clear?"

The crew exchanged some looks, and after a moment they nodded. Captain Grant picked up the straws with one hand and turned to face her crew. Unbeknownst to the crew, one plain straw remained on the table behind her.

"Everybody, close your eyes."

The crew, Captain Grant included, did as she said and closed their eyes. She held the straws out in front of her, the tips hidden in her fist so no-one could cheat and see which straw's tip was red.

"Now take a straw."

Captain Grant felt the straws move around in her hand, and the amount she was holding quickly decreased until there were none left. She opened her eyes and swiftly but quietly reached behind her to pick up the plain straw and held it out in front of her.

"Everybody, open your eyes."

The crew obeyed and looked at the straws they each held in their hands.

"Who has the straw with the red tip?" asked an unfazed Captain Grant.

There was silence at first as the crew peered into each others' hands.

Suddenly, a voice. "Him. He has it."

"Who?" asked the captain.

"Stephen."

Everyone looked to see for themselves. All the eyes were now on the man in question. He was standing completely still and was staring down at the straw in his hand.

"Looks like it's you who gets to use the pod, mate," congratulated one of the crew members as he patted the man on the shoulder. "You must be excited."

Stephen Davies continued to gaze solemnly at the straw he held in his fingers. He didn't know whether to feel elated or heartbroken.

"I…Well…" was all he could say.

"There isn't time for congratulations," Captain Grant said. She turned to Stephen. "Stephen, you have won the opportunity to see what becomes of the planet. You know what you have to do now."

"But –"

"No buts," Captain Grant ordered. She and the crew led Stephen towards the pod room. "We have to do this quickly."

"Wait!" Stephen yelled. "Can I speak with you for a moment, Captain?"

Captain Grant looked back to the others for a second. "Okay, but be quick."

She took Stephen into the pod room and spoke to the crew. "I'll not be a minute," she said. The crew nodded in response, and Captain Grant closed the door, sealing her and Stephen off from the others.

"What's wrong?" asked Captain Grant. She sounded irritated, like she was in a hurry, but there was some genuine concern in her voice.

Stephen looked at the floor. "It's just…everything's happening so quickly. The moment I picked the straw, I was taken here. I mean, I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to anyone."

Captain Grant was silent for a moment. "To be honest, the reason I wanted to get whoever won into the pod quickly was so that they wouldn't be as emotional as they would be if it was a long farewell. I know how much it hurts to know you won't see your friends again – we all do – and I just thought whoever was selected would've wanted it over and done with like that. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

"I suppose…" Stephen trailed off.

There was a pause.

"So…" said Stephen, "what do you plan on doing for the rest of your stay in here?"

"Just the same as before," Captain Grant replied, "monitoring the outside radiation levels…and hoping…" She chuckled. "Enough about me. You're lucky; you'll live to see what the new world will look like."

"But I don't see what good I would be for the new world," Stephen responded. "Captain, can't _you_ take my place? You'd be better in developing the new world than me."

"But I have a crew to look after here and I'm not going to desert them just for my own survival. Besides…" Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "…I rigged the straws so that I wouldn't win."

Stephen gasped. "You sacrificed your only chance of winning?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Why?"

Captain Grant's tone darkened. "I don't deserve it. Our world has been torn apart, destroyed. You know I was an important figurehead on our side in the war. All the soldiers I've sent to their deaths, all the people I've helped slaughter…" For a second it looked like she was about to cry from the painful memories she was bringing up, but she kept her composure.

"I'm a war criminal, Stephen, as guilty as the leaders we were fighting against. You all may know me as a kind and respectable captain, but I have blood on my hands and I feel like I've let down not only you, but our entire race because I helped create its destruction. None of my crew here are guilty of such things, including you. That's why I rigged it: so whoever won would be a good person who wouldn't be capable of repeating such atrocities."

Stephen was taken aback at Captain Grant's words. "But…but what if none of the other Utopiadomes succeed? I might wake up only to find a world in ruin or a world where I'm the only living thing left. Heck, you said I could only wake up again if somebody else opened the pod. What if nobody comes for me? …I'm frightened, Captain."

Captain Grant put her hands firmly on Stephen's shoulders. "Stephen, listen to me. You will go in that pod and I promise you will wake up in a world of paradise, free from our destruction. That's an offer you'd be mad not to accept. Okay?" she asked gently.

Before Stephen could reply, Captain Grant opened the door and leaned out. "Gregory, could you help me place Stephen in suspended animation?"

"Yes, Captain."

As the technician stepped into the room, Captain Grant slowly led Stephen towards the pod.

"Gregory…could I also ask you to shut the door?"

"Of course, Captain," Gregory replied. He pressed the button on the wall and the door sealed shut.

Stephen approached the pod uncertainly. As he climbed in, he started thinking that the pod and the Utopiadome were going to be his tomb for the next however-many years. Captain Grant sensed this as Stephen lay down inside the pod and looked up at her.

"I know this goes against my orders," said Captain Grant softly, "but if you want, we can let you out of there once every month or so; you know, to keep you company and let you know of our progress."

Stephen shook his head. "No," he said, "I don't want to see you all growing older and older in front of my eyes, especially in what would only feel like a few seconds to me."

"I understand," said Captain Grant. Gregory approached the pod and knelt down to the level of the control panel on the side of the pod.

"All set, Captain?" asked Gregory.

"I think so," replied Captain Grant. She turned to Stephen. "Are you ready?"

"Yes…" Stephen bolted upright. "No! Wait…Give me a moment…" He covered his eyes with one hand and breathed deeply. After a moment, he lay back down. "Right, I'm ready."

Captain Grant put a hand on the pod lid and lowered it shut, restricting Stephen to a lying-down position. Now Stephen was concealed inside the pod, the small window on the lid being the only source of light. The window was positioned above his head, and he could see a small section of the ceiling through it. Although Stephen couldn't see Captain Grant or Gregory, he knew they were getting the pod to work.

A few seconds passed, but each second felt like an hour. Stephen couldn't hear anything other than the sound of his own breathing, which sounded louder than it usually did due to the closed space he was in. Suddenly, the sound of a machine whirring underneath him interrupted the silence. After a moment, thick steam began to billow into the pod and circulate around the inside. The steam crept closer and closer towards Stephen's head until he was breathing it in. The window began to mist up.

Stephen's eyelids suddenly felt extremely heavy, but he tried to fight against the potentially-eternal sleep that was going to take him, just for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak.

"…Good-…goodb-…"

But he couldn't complete his farewell. His energy was fast leaving him, and the mere act of speaking was too much an effort. Besides, he doubted the others would be able to hear him mumbling. A green light began to glow behind him. This was it – a few seconds now and he would be suspended in time.

_What to think? What to think?_

As the heavy feeling swept over him, Stephen forced as many pleasant memories to play in his mind as he could before his eyes would close. Images of people he once knew appeared before him: his parents, his grandparents, the young lady he was about to propose to before the war – all of them now dead.

There was no turning back now, and Stephen allowed himself to drift off. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the faint light shining through the window, obscured by the heavy steam.

And then there was darkness…

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**Well folks, we're one chapter closer to actually getting to Mossflower. Originally this was going to be the first chapter, but after writing it I thought it started the story too abruptly, so I wrote the previous chapter and then rewrote parts of this one before I uploaded anything.**


	3. III

**Thanks again for the review, Hamlet. With regards to your point about the beginning of the previous chapter, I can see what you mean about it being slow at the beginning. I think the reason it's like that is because chapter II was originally going to be the opening chapter until I decided to write another chapter before it (I thought the story opened too abruptly otherwise). But thanks for pointing it out, and I'll keep it in mind when writing future chapters so I don't do the same thing again (I'll try and fix the beginning of the chapter sometime in the future as well to improve it).**

**Thomas the Traveler, I'm glad you're liking this story so far as well and I'm glad you liked my previous Redwall story too. I hope you like what's to come.**

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After what felt like only a handful of seconds, Stephen's eyes opened. He could see that he was still concealed inside the pod with the lid closed over, but the light underneath him was off and there was no sign of the mist. Through the window he could still see the grey ceiling of the room, but the lighting in the room seemed darker. Instantly, Stephen was asking himself questions: why had he woken up with the pod lid still closed? Had the pod broken down like the others but with him still inside? Maybe he had only been suspended in time for a few days and the rest of the crew were still alive? A hopeful smile grew across Stephen's face as he banged his fists against the closed lid. There was a chance he could spend some more time with his friends.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" he called out loudly.

Stephen tried his best to get a view out from the small window. He couldn't see well through it, but it was clear that nobody was coming to release him. Maybe if he shouted again, they would hear him? Were they asleep? It could be the middle of the night for all he knew.

"Hello! I can't get out!"

Still no response. Was there a way to open the lid from the inside? Stephen banged his fists against the lid again, and it occurred to him that the lid was shaking whenever he banged against it. Confused, Stephen pushed against the lid. To his surprise, the lid swung open. As it did so, it suddenly fell off and landed on the floor with a loud bang.

Stephen jolted up and fixed his eyes on the lid. The lock appeared to have rusted and crumbled, as had the hinges. The mere opening of the lid was too much for them to take. Stephen turned his attention to the other pods in the room; they still had the lids on, but they were otherwise all in a similar condition as the pod he had been in, if not worse. This did not look promising.

Carefully, Stephen climbed out of the pod and walked slowly across the floor towards one of the other pods. He looked through the window on the lid to see a skeleton lying inside, and Stephen felt his heart sink. Stephen made his way around the room, looking inside all the other pods, and the same sight greeted him with the exception of one other pod. Captain Grant's orders about burying the dead must have been carried out. Stephen wondered what had happened to the other crew member, and decided to see what was in the main control room. He headed to the door and pressed the button on the wall to open it, but nothing happened. Stephen kicked the door lightly, thinking the door might just be jammed, but the door collapsed forward on contact. It hit the floor with a mighty thud and Stephen jumped back in shock. This was _definitely_ not a good sign. As Stephen made his way into the main control room of the Utopiadome, he nearly collapsed.

The room he had entered was one of ruin. Everything that he remembered as once spotless and gleaming was now rusted over. The only things that had appeared to withstand the test of time were the ceiling lights, the plastic boxes and a couple of the computers, but even the ceiling lights were considerably dimmer than before and the monitors were off. Two boxes had been taken off the shelf and were sitting on the floor. Some of their contents had been emptied and were lying around them. The contents on the floor consisted of a reel of film and some books, all of them tattered and torn from exposure to the elements. Judging by the decay in this room alone, it was safe to assume that he had woken up many years after being sealed into the pod. The pod must have suffered the same way as everything else, which would explain why it would suddenly stop working and cause him to wake up.

In the dim light, he caught sight of something that made his heart sink: a crumbling skeleton lying on the ground. So this was where the missing crew member had died. Stephen didn't dare touch it or check the name on the uniform – he didn't want to know who had died last out of the rest of the crew. If only there was a way to have given the others a chance of survival.

One thing still puzzled him: how had everything degraded like this? The skeletons didn't confuse him, as dead flesh was bound to rot away in the environment, but the Utopiadome and its equipment had been designed to withstand the test of time if they were cut off from the outside world. The only way it could get to _this_ state was if the room had been exposed to the outside air and germs, and for a good few years at that…

Stephen quickly turned to the entrance to find it open, revealing a world of blackness outside. This clearly showed that the inside of the Utopiadome had been exposed to the outside world, but a new thing puzzled Stephen: if all the other crew members' bodies had been accounted for, why was the entrance open? There was no chance that the door had opened on its own. Did it mean someone had entered the Utopiadome while he was in suspended animation? But if someone else from another Utopiadome had gotten in, why didn't they release him then? Unless…unless it wasn't a case of _who_ had gotten in, but more a case of _what_ had gotten in.

No. That was impossible, surely.

Stephen cast another quick glance at the skeleton on the floor. How _did_ the crew member die? Did he or she die of old age? Suicide? Perhaps the crew member had just opened the door and let him or herself die from the radiation? But the person was quite a distance from the door, so that couldn't be right - anyone opening the door would be killed almost instantly. Or had the unfortunate person been attacked by who or what had entered the Utopiadome? If someone or something had indeed found a way in, had the mysterious perpetrator broken in after the other crew members had died? It must have been after, because the radiation levels would still have been high enough to kill _him_ only a decade or so after being placed in suspended animation. Stephen shuddered at the thought of another being managing to break into the Utopiadome – had he dodged a bullet? As much as Stephen hoped and wished the last crew member hadn't died a gruesome death, he dreaded the thought of the Utopiadome having been broken into long after they had all died because if that was so, there was a chance that whoever or whatever had broken in, or at least some kind of offspring, was still out there. The radiation outside could have caused mutations amongst the remaining living things that had not made it to the Utopiadomes.

Suddenly he remembered something: since the door was open, that meant there could be a potentially high amount of radiation coming into the Utopiadome! Even though the radiation levels definitely wouldn't be as high as they were back when the rest of the crew were alive, for all Stephen knew he could still be wandering around through a lethal atmosphere. The only way he could make sure if he was safe was by checking the radiation levels through the computers. Some of the computers still looked like they could work and there was no harm in seeing if anything could be salvaged. Stephen flicked a few switches on the computers, and to his astonishment, some of the computers whirred back into life and a few screens flickered back on.

There was no time for amazement though. Immediately, with the quick punching of keys, Stephen began checking to see what the atmosphere outside was like. After a moment, some charts appeared on one of the screens. To his relief, it stated that the radiation levels outside were safe – in fact, the levels were identical to what they had been before the war. Now that he knew it was safe to venture out, Stephen decided to find out what had happened to the world during the years he had been sleeping through.

Stephen began to find a digital map of the new world – it wouldn't have taken a genius to know the continents would have moved significantly since the war – but before he could find a map of any sort, the computer lights blinked and went dim. The screen turned to black.

"_No!_ Oh…"

Stephen covered his eyes in despair. He had barely any information about the outside world. If the map had loaded up, he would have been able to at least pinpoint where the other Utopiadomes were and get a basic idea of the geography of the world. Now that the computers had finally stopped working, there was no chance of him ever finding any of the other Utopiadomes (or new settlements if possible) unless through sheer luck. The continents and islands would have definitely moved over the years, so a map would have also come in handy to work out how to get around. Also, there was no way of telling what the weather was going to be like from the Utopiadome without the computer unless he went outside. Deep down, Stephen hoped it wasn't winter. The only way to find out now was to venture outside…

There was no other choice – Stephen had to go outside. There was no point in staying in the derelict Utopiadome anyway, but going out without any supplies would be too dangerous. Since there was so much decay around the Utopiadome, Stephen doubted he would be able to salvage much, if anything. As the plastic boxes had survived virtually intact, Stephen decided to search there. He took the boxes from the shelf and rummaged through them, looking for anything that could come in handy. After looking through all the boxes, all he had found were a pocket knife and a wind-up electric flashlight. Not much, but it was better than nothing.

Stephen put the knife in his left pocket and switched the flashlight on. Since the ceiling lights were dimmer, the lights that had been fitted into the cave and tunnel leading back to the surface would be dimmer too because they shared the same power source. With a deep breath, he stepped outside.

The first thing he felt as he stepped out was the heat. It was as if he had suddenly walked into a furnace. The heat was emanating from the outside surface of the Utopiadome. The area he was in was pitch black – the lights outside were completely out – so Stephen used the flashlight to look around. The cavern looked just as he remembered, with its sloping walls and rock formations, but it looked a lot more foreboding in the even dimmer lighting.

Stephen looked at the ground and noticed footprints in front of him. He shone the flashlight across the ground to reveal even more footprints around the cavern. There was no mistaking it. The blast would have definitely wiped out any trace of his or the others' footprints, so these had to have been made after the crew had sealed themselves inside. He then turned to face the Utopiadome and shone the torch on its dull metal body, and his eyes widened at the sight of long, thin dents around the door. There had to be a connection between the footprints and these dents. Whoever or whatever had broken in had unknowingly exposed the preserved interior of the Utopiadome to the outside world (or at least the inside of a cave), which had caused it to decay. The decay inside the Utopiadome suggested it had been opened many years ago, but this didn't make things better; the Utopiadome had been broken in from the outside, and the dents were proof of that.

Stephen didn't want to stay in the dark cavern any longer. He shone the flashlight around until he caught sight of the tunnel leading out. He quickly made his way over to the tunnel, almost jogging, and began to make his way up. The tunnel was narrow and quite small, forcing Stephen to duck slightly to avoid hitting his head off the ceiling. Stephen shone the flashlight at the ground in order to see if there were any hazards below him. It felt steeper than it had been when he and the others had gone down, now that he was travelling upwards. Every time he took a step forward, the sound of his feet moving echoed dully off the tunnel walls.

After awhile, he felt the slope begin to get less steep. He was nearing the surface. Stephen couldn't help but feel a little relieved, as his legs were aching from the long hike up.

As he reached the end of the tunnel, a new sight greeted him: in front of him was a wall with a hole at the bottom of it. This was new to Stephen; when he and the others had ventured down to the Utopiadome, the tunnel entrance was just an open hole in the ground. Obviously some kind of rocky surface had formed over the years above the original entrance to create this short section of tunnel. Stephen knelt down beside the hole to get a closer look. He could sense fresh air coming through the hole as he breathed, and some light was trying to shine through, illuminating the ground around it slightly. Once he crawled through this hole, he would be taking his first steps into the new world. Stephen switched the flashlight off and put it in his right pocket before crawling through to see what the world had become…

* * *

**If you've read **_**The Relic of a Forgotten Past**_** (a.k.a.**_** A Discovery**_**)****, you'll remember a bit where the characters commented on how there was light inside the tunnel when there wasn't any sunlight. The answer as to where the light was coming from is in this chapter and the first one – there were lights in the tunnel that were connected to and powered by the Utopiadome, but because the Utopiadome has been opened and has started to turn to ruin inside, the lights don't work anymore (_The Relic __of a Forgotten Past_ takes place in between this chapter and the previous one, but it's obvious that the events of that fanfic took place awhile before this chapter – as well as ages after chapter 2 – because of the state of the Utopiadome was in when Stephen woke up as it was when Martin and Liam found it). I'd intended the light source to be in the original story, but I didn't explain it well enough there…in fact, I didn't explain it at all…so I hope this wraps up any confusion about that.**

**The next chapter _will_ have Mossflower in it, I promise!**


	4. IV

Stephen crawled through to find himself in a relatively small cave with a view of the outside world. To his relief, there was no snow. In fact, the landscape before him was a one of tranquil beauty. Before him was a collection of trees, each one looking very sturdy and sprouting green leaves. Stephen couldn't believe it. Mesmerised, he stepped out of the cave and rubbed his eyes as if he thought it was all an illusion. He'd half-expected to have been greeted with a desolate, barren world, but this was the exact opposite.

As he exited the cave, he realised he was standing in what appeared to be a small clearing in a forest, as the trees surrounded him in a semicircle. Stephen looked behind him to see a huge cliff of limestone, and he almost gasped in wonder at its sheer awesomeness; if he needed proof that he had been in suspended animation for many years, this was it. There was an earthy smell in the air and the ground was a little soft, indicating it had been raining not too long ago. There were clouds in the sky, but there were some spots of blue poking through here and there. Stephen walked forward, looking all around him with a bewildered smile on his face.

"Wow…" Stephen uttered to himself as he walked away from the cave and into the forest. He was almost lost for words. "This is…unbelievable. There's no trace of the war…"

Indeed, there was no sign of there ever being a devastating war, or any sign of mankind for that matter. It was as if he had taken a step back into a time before the Industrial Revolution had occurred, or even before the first settlers had arrived in Britain. Stephen continued to walk on through the trees and look around him. Everything seemed so peaceful, and he felt much safer than he had back in the cavern. He guessed from the way everything looked that it was either late summer or early autumn. _Thank goodness_, he thought to himself. Winter was sometime away, and by then it was likely he would have found somewhere to stay.

But as Stephen made his way deeper into the woods, he began to notice things were not as normal-looking as they had first appeared. Stephen looked around mesmerised at the trees that surrounded him. Some of the trees appeared to be just like they had been before the war; however, some other trees appeared to be huge, both in height and width. The leaves on the normal trees were small enough to each fit in his hand, but the leaves on the huge trees were big enough for him to wear like a hood or a cloak. It was as if the world had partly grown or he had gradually shrunk after leaving the cave. Was this a side-effect of the war or a result of the lengthy time without mankind everywhere? If so, why hadn't all the trees grown to gigantic proportions? These larger trees seemed to increase in numbers as he ventured deeper into the forest, but there were still numbers of normal-sized trees as he journeyed.

Stephen paused and spent a good few minutes staring up at the leaf ceiling above him. The trees towered over him like skyscrapers he had remembered seeing a few times before the war, only these towering forms had not been built by hand. _They must have taken hundreds of years to grow_, Stephen thought.

When he looked down at the floor, he then realised it wasn't just some of the trees that were giant – some bluebells were growing in the areas of earth that the sunlight managed to reach after penetrating through gaps in the leaves. Like with the trees, some of the bluebells appeared to be the size he remembered them as, while others were reaching up past his knees. The grass, however, hadn't appeared to have changed for the most part, with some clumps of slightly longer strands here and there.

"Everything's so big," Stephen muttered to himself. "If this is what happened to the plants, imagine what the wildlife's like…"

Almost instantly, Stephen wished he hadn't said that. Thoughts began to whirl around his head. What _was_ the wildlife like? Some of the trees and flowers had grown to larger sizes. The same must have happened with the wildlife, surely. A lot of the creatures he remembered from country walks when he was young were much smaller than him. If the same creatures had followed the trees' example, they would surely be big enough to attack him. And who was to say they acted the same either? Perhaps creatures he remembered as harmless and timid were now ferocious predators?

Now it was like a thousand eyes were on him, glaring down from out of view. Stephen lowered his head as if doing so would somehow protect him. Was he imagining it? All of a sudden, the ruined Utopiadome felt like a much safer place. But what if it had been one of these creatures that had managed to open the door of the Utopiadome? If that was so, then Stephen felt he was lucky to still be even standing. Had he done the right thing of wandering away? Goodness, whatever had pried the Utopiadome door open must've had powerful claws.

That wasn't the only thing that Stephen was now getting worried about. He had been walking for some time, and it now occurred to him that it was darker than what it had been when he first stepped out of the cave. The sun was setting. If there were any large predators in this new world, Stephen especially didn't want to be alone in the dark of the night-time forest, otherwise there was no chance for him.

Stephen heard the sound of the leaves rustling, and upon looking up, he felt something small and wet hit his left eye. It was starting to rain. Stephen winced and wiped his eye with a finger, and also put his hood that was attached to the back of his suit up as more raindrops fell onto him and everything else they could reach through the treetops. Judging from the growing sound of raindrops hitting the leaves of the trees the rain was picking up, so Stephen immediately started walking at a faster pace, intent on finding some shelter before the sun completely set. As he trudged on, Stephen inwardly cursed himself. The whole thing about the wildlife was going to be preying on his mind for a long time.

* * *

Indeed, the wildlife Stephen remembered had changed a lot, for at that moment, one of the inhabitants of this new world was hurrying through the woods as fast as he could. This character was an adult otter with a thin build and dressed in grey rags. His footpaws were soggy from running across the muddy ground and puddles and the fur on his body was matted. His legs were aching and he had a tremendous stitch, but he continued running as fast as he could. Every so often, he would turn his head to see if anybeast was following him. In his pocket, he had a few scraps of bread – all he'd been able to get a hold of.

The otter stumbled and felt himself collapse to the ground and tumble down a small slope, but this didn't stop him from trying to flee. Instead he scrambled across the ground on all fours, too exhausted to get back to his feet but still intent on finding somewhere safe.

One of the trees in front of him had a small opening amongst its roots, big enough for him to fit into if he kept low. The otter scurried into the opening and huddled up, trying to keep his breathing under control. As he kept as quiet as possible, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the direction he had came from. The otter could feel his heart beating faster than it ever had done before. The footsteps were accompanied by threatening voices.

"Any sign o' 'im, Cap'n?"

The otter's heart was pounding as he heard the footsteps slowly move around.

"Nah. Come on, we're goin'. It'll get dark soon."

"But yer haven't caught the otter, Cap'n. Yer'll be whipped fer sure!"

There was a pause. The otter hoped the captain wouldn't change his mind.

"Well that's the risk I got ter take," the captain said. "'Sides, there's no reason why we can't search t'morrow. How's Thornclaw expect us ter find an escaped prisoner in _this_ weather? He'll start the search again t'morrow, knowing 'im – just watch!"

The otter heard the footsteps slowly die away. Carefully, he rose out from the hiding place and peeked around the tree, and sure enough he could see two rats trudging away. When the rats disappeared into the trees, the otter settled down, putting his head up against the tree trunk and sliding down into a sitting position, all the while breathing heavily. He had evaded capture…for now. Like the soldiers had said, they were sure to search again for him the next sunrise. But for now, he could have a few hours of peace thanks to their laziness.

As he breathed, the otter turned his attention to a hole in his clothing on his left side. Through it, a large wound was visible. The otter exhaled irritably and tried to cover the wound up with the flaps of torn clothing around it. The wound wasn't clean and the otter knew it was likely to get infected without proper treatment. For now, all he could do was try to cover it over until he found some kind beast or a healer who would help him.

After a moment of rest, the otter stood back up and staggered away deeper into the forest. Although the search had been called off, he still wanted to put as much distance between him and where he'd came from. The otter had gone through enough pain and toil just to get to this stage, and he was not willing to give up now. Besides, he had to deliver his message as fast as he could before it was too late. There was danger, a new threat to Mossflower that was hidden so well that nobeast knew anything about it…except for him and those he had ran away from. It was a race against time for him to warn the inhabitants of the place he had once lived before he had been captured, the place he knew he would be most trusted amongst those who lived there…Redwall Abbey.

* * *

**I know this is quite a short chapter, but I felt it worked better on its own than as part of the previous or next chapter. Stephen is finally in Mossflower! What will he encounter? Who is this otter? Who is Thornclaw? All will be revealed soon.**


	5. V

**Thomas the Traveler, thanks again for the review. To be honest, the main reason why I wrote it so some of the scenery had grown was because I was confused over the scaling in the books! ****There are some instances where the characters seem to be scaled to the trees or plants or whatever like they would be in real life, but then there are other instances where the scaling appears to be different and would make the characters something like human-sized (t****his also happened in the TV series too as I recall). I tried to incorporate both scalings when I was writing about the woods, so it would look normal at first to Stephen and then make things begin to appear unusual after awhile.**

**Hamlet, at the moment I'd say there are definitely going to be something over fifteen chapters, but I'm not sure by how many exactly. I made the estimation based on some rough notes I'd written for the story's overall plot – I wanted to at least have something to follow rather than just make the plot up as I write each chapter, mainly to avoid writer's block and to correct any plot holes, but I haven't properly decided where to break up each chapter after the tenth one.**

* * *

Hidden deep in Mossflower Woods, a good distance from where Stephen was wandering about, was a collection of tents. The tents were quite large and were coloured green like the grass and leaves, making them blend into the surrounding area to a degree. The tents were huddled around the base of a large hill that had only a couple of trees perched at the very top, and several vermin were pacing around the area, carrying swords and spears. It had stopped raining and now the setting sun was beginning to show through the clouds, but darkness still seemed to hang over this place.

One tent was situated closer to the hill than the others, and it had a small grey flag hanging from the top. Inside this tent was a rat who went by the name of Thornclaw. The name 'Thornclaw' was not the name he had been given at birth. His left paw was thin with long finger-like claws, but he had no right paw. Instead he covered the stump at the end of his arm with an iron hook, similar to pirates you may remember from old swashbuckling tales. The hook was sharp like a thorn, and that was how he got his name, a name he had given himself. Thornclaw was sitting alone, waiting for any news of an event that had occurred not too long ago.

"Sir?" came a shaky voice from outside.

"Enter," replied Thornclaw.

A rat crept into the tent. It was the same rat that had been chasing the otter not too long ago. The rat approached his master with his eyes to the ground.

"Well?" the frightening creature asked sharply.

The rat, whose name was Crad, gulped. "Er…well, sir…"

"I haven't got time for this!" Thornclaw interrupted. Unlike the other vermin in his horde, Thornclaw spoke in a much more formal manner, but that didn't make his words less threatening. "Spit it out or I'll tear the words out of you!"

"The otter…" Crad gulped again. Perhaps giving up on the search wasn't so good an idea after all. "…'E got away, sir…"

Thornclaw stared daggers at the rat before him without saying a word. He stood up slowly, making Crad almost shrink with nerves.

"So, not only did those soldiers I had placed under your command get drunk, but a prisoner was able to escape while you're on duty – in daytime."

"Sir, it weren't like that –"

"And," Thornclaw interrupted, "am I to understand that the escapee was none other than Skipper of Redwall Abbey? The prisoner I considered my most valuable? The one I intended to send to Dacnirah's lair this very moment?"

The word 'Dacnirah' sent shivers down Crad's back.

"Do you realise how much worry I'm sure I had caused when I captured that prisoner? How much morale I would have broken amongst the prisoners had he been sent to fight Dacnirah without fail? How…thrilled I would have been if he had actually made it out of her lair alive and avenged my injury?" He cast a quick but obvious glance at the iron hook that was in place of his right paw. "He was our only prisoner who was capable of such a task!" Thornclaw said, closing in on the hapless Crad with each word he spoke.

"B-b-but sir," Crad stuttered, "we got 'im in the side just as 'e got away! 'E won't last long."

"He may well die before he reaches others…but that doesn't excuse the fact that _you_ have failed me, Crad! Do you think I'm persuaded that easily? Besides, he may recover. Did you ever think of that? You disappoint me."

Thornclaw moved away from Crad and paced around in a circle. "If I don't send a prisoner into Dacnirah's lair at this moment, who knows what she might do? She may become too restless and come out to attack us. I need to find a substitute…" As he said this, Thornclaw eyed Crad in a threatening way. "You have a sword, haven't you?"

Crad took a step back. "…No…No sir! Dismiss me! Have me flogged! ANYTHING BUT _THAT_!" He fell to his knees and cowered on the floor.

"_Stand up!_" Thornclaw yelled. Crad stood up as fast as he could, only for Thornclaw to grab him and shove the hook up against Crad's neck. Crad could feel the hook touching the fur on his neck, and he leaned his head back slightly to avoid it from puncturing his flesh.

"Sir, please! Don't take me ter Dacnirah's lair! Send another prisoner! We got lots o' others!"

"What use are you to me now, Crad?" Thornclaw roared. "You're as good as dead to me! I couldn't care less if you made it out or died!"

Crad pushed the hook away and turned in an attempt to break for freedom, but Thornclaw grabbed him by the tail and yanked hard. As Crad fell down, Thornclaw grabbed him with both arms and hoisted the squirming rat up, facing away from him. Thornclaw had his left arm around Crad's stomach, and his right arm around Crad's chest, with the hook held against his neck again.

With Crad secure in his grasp, Thornclaw began to slowly force him forward, out of the tent. Crad struggled and tried to twist his arms around to grab Thornclaw's head or his own sword, but nothing seemed to work. Once they were out the tent, Thornclaw headed in the direction of the hill. Several other members of Thornclaw's rather small horde watched uneasily as this unfolded. Even without having listened to what their master had said to Crad, they knew what was about to happen. As Thornclaw guided a hysterical Crad up the hill, the spectators followed, not daring to intervene. They wanted to look away, but their eyes refused to close and their heads would not turn.

Thornclaw gradually forced Crad up to a small cave entrance about halfway up the hill. The entrance was surrounded by tufts of grass and a few rocks. It was dark inside, but still bright enough to see the floor of the cave slanting down at a tremendous angle, down into the depths of the earth. Crad was now struggling more than ever, but Thornclaw's grip only tightened.

Finally, they reached the cave entrance. Thornclaw leaned back, lifting Crad off his feet in the process, and pushed with a mighty force.

It was as if time slowed down as Crad fell through the air and head-first into the cave. Crad could only howl and flail his arms about as he tumbled down, down, down into the dark abyss. He could feel cuts and bruises forming on his body as the sunlight faded away to be replaced by increased blackness.

After what felt like ages, Crad landed at the bottom of the slope with a _SLAM_. His eyes closed upon impact. Crad's head was spinning, and it took a moment for him to open his eyes and get a look at his surroundings.

Crad found himself in a small cavern with barely any light reaching down from outside, but what little he could see made him even more frightened. Before him were three dark tunnels, each leading to the unknown. Dacnirah was bound to come looking for him, but which tunnel would she come out of?

He had to get out. _Now_!

Crad stumbled to his feet, dazed by the fall. He spun around and tried scrambling back up the slope, desperate to not find out first-hand what happened to those who were thrown down here, for he knew it would be the last thing he would ever see. He had witnessed other prisoners being thrown to their doom, a fate that still mystified the entire horde with the exception of Thornclaw. All anybeast knew was that it was the lair of Dacnirah, and she would kill anybeast who entered her domain unless they were skilled swordsbeasts. The fact that nobeast knew what Dacnirah looked like or how she killed the beasts who were thrown down, again with the exception of Thornclaw, made it even the more terrifying for Crad and the rest of the horde when they heard the screams of whoever had been thrown in a few moments prior. But even without knowing what she looked like, they knew Dacnirah would be a monstrous thing. Nobeast who had been thrown down into her lair had ever made it out alive, their dying screams being the evidence of that, but this hadn't stopped Thornclaw from sending more prisoners down to carry out his task. Every time a prisoner was killed, Thornclaw would be disappointed, but he hadn't shown a hint of care for Crad or tried to reason with him.

But alas, as he clawed and scraped at the slope, all he was doing was sending dust and gravel down onto his face. There was no chance of escaping back the way he had arrived. Crad sank to the ground and began to whimper. His voice echoed dully off the cavern and tunnel walls. His gaze darted around the room, keeping an eye on all three tunnels, and he kept a paw on the hilt of his sword. It wouldn't be long before Dacnirah would come.

As he wallowed in self-pity, Crad noticed a faint glow coming from the farthest tunnel to the right. He knelt up and squinted his eyes. The end of the tunnel was not visible, but it was clear that something bright was glowing at the end of it. It had to be sunlight – nothing else could make that kind of glow this far down in the ground. Although it had been raining, the setting sun had been visible in the sky.

"That tunnel mus' lead ter the surface," Crad said to himself, "an' if it leads outside, it means I can escape!"

Crad hurriedly stood up and headed as fast as he could through the tunnel. Every few steps he made, he would look over his shoulder to make sure there was no movement behind him. The glow was becoming increasingly brighter as he made his way through the tunnel, which twisted and turned a few times. At the same time, an eerie silence was all Crad could hear, other than his own steps and breathing.

Finally, Crad turned the corner that led to the end of the tunnel, but what he saw wasn't sunlight. In fact, the sight that greeted him made the hairs on his body stand up, and because he had been running he was unable to stop before it was too late…

* * *

A couple of minutes later, the distant sounds of Crad's terrified screams could be heard from the cave entrance. The soldiers stood outside, listening. Crad's screams began to take on a muffled form, as if something was covering his face. Eventually, the muffled cries silenced. The soldiers gulped and shuddered, not daring to go after their comrade or even speak.

Thornclaw was standing above the cave entrance, his face plastered with a snarl. He raised his arms up, and the soldiers immediately looked at him. His hook glinted in the setting sun.

"You all know what happens to failures like Crad. Anybeast who dares fail me will feel the wrath of Dacnirah! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!" the soldiers replied in unison, their voices shaking a little.

"Now I'm a captain short…" Thornclaw pondered to himself. He suddenly pointed at three particular rats amongst the soldiers. One of the rats was thin and looked like he would collapse at any moment from worry. The second rat was quite large and stocky, while the third was shorter than the other two and had a chipped front tooth.

"You three!" Thornclaw yelled to them.

The three rats jumped. "Y-y-yes sir?" they stuttered.

"You will take the former captain's place. Perhaps three heads will work better than one?"

The short rat with the chipped tooth replied nervously. "W-well thanks sir, it's a…it's an honour an' that…"

"We resume the search tomorrow!" Thornclaw suddenly announced. "The otter will be forced to rest tomorrow if he runs all night, so he will be unable to put up a fight if we find him. If the otter manages to reach Redwall Abbey, we will be discovered! But if we _are_ discovered…we will be ready."

* * *

**Here we are introduced to the main antagonist, Thornclaw. His motives may not be very clear at the moment – currently all we know is that he has prisoners and is out for revenge against somebeast who lives in a nearby cave – but it'll be explained more in future chapters. I know a thorn and a claw don't exactly resemble a hook, but the name 'Thornclaw' stuck.**


	6. VI

**Thomas the Traveler, I haven't got an exact count of how many vermin are in Thornclaw's horde, but it's a relatively small number…_at the moment_…**

* * *

Stephen was still wandering about the forest by the time the sun had completely set. The moon cast a ghostly silver light down on Mossflower Woods. The rain had stopped, and now a low mist hung near the ground, creating an eerie atmosphere, and the silence was even more chilling now it was dark. Stephen was more nervous than ever. The lingering threat of giant wildlife attacking him had never left. Everything and anything that made the slightest noise or moved, even leaves falling to the ground, made him jump, and he had only a flashlight and a pocket knife to defend himself with. No matter how many times he told himself to think of other things, the thought of impending doom always returned to him. Stephen looked behind him to see the eerie dark forest behind him. It was very much like the scenery in some horror movies he had watched one night when he was a boy (much to his regret for a few weeks afterwards), except now he was experiencing it for real.

"I bet something is following me…"

Stephen breathed out heavily and rubbed his eyes. "Don't say that!" he told himself. "Your nerves are getting the better of you! Let it go. Try and think positive thoughts…"

But there was nothing positive to think about. All he wanted was to find a safe place to rest for the night. So far he hadn't encountered any settlements, or any sign of life aside from the trees and flowers. There was a feeling of dread brewing deep inside him: what if the Utopia Project hadn't succeeded? He was the only survivor of his Utopiadome, but what if similar things had happened to all the other Utopiadomes? What if he was the last survivor of the human race?

"No," Stephen told himself as he continued pacing through the forest, "I'll find civilisation, even if I have to walk hundreds of miles. There must be _some_ people around. There _has_ to be."

Yes, that was it! He could calm his nerves by thinking of what kind of settlement other surviving Utopia Project members had established. He hadn't thought of that, so perhaps it would calm his nerves? Stephen imagined himself being greeted into a quaint town by some kindly folk who had learnt from the past and now strove to keep this new world peaceful. The town was situated in a large meadow with a clean river running through it. The people of this town were very friendly and were offering to let him stay in their town for as long as he liked. They led him through the streets while other people stopped to say hello to him. The houses were all made of wood and there was a water wheel that was attached to a small electric generator that had been constructed from dismantled parts of a Utopiadome. As the wheel turned, the generator produced electricity for the town. The people led him into a house, up the stairs and to a tidy spacious room with a comfy bed and other furnishings. Stephen gazed out the window, and he could see a bakery and a library stocked with the books that had been stored in the Utopiadomes. The sun shone and the flowers bloomed while pastoral folk music drifted through the air. How nice it sounded…though too good to be true at the same time. Even if there was such a place, he wasn't going to reach it anytime soon. But, thankfully, it had lifted Stephen's spirits up a little.

Eventually Stephen came across a rocky cliff about three times his height, surrounded by trees. It definitely wasn't perfect, but it was good enough for him to rest for the night. In order to keep warm, Stephen collected some nearby sticks and twigs to use for a fire; because of the thick leaves above him, some of the sticks and twigs had avoided being soaked by the rain. Stephen placed the bundle on the ground and clacked two stones together to create a spark. Soon some flames were rising from the bundle of sticks, and Stephen sat down next to the fire. His hood was still up, but Stephen didn't remove it because he still felt a little cold. He placed the flashlight and the pocket knife on the ground next to him. It wasn't comfy, but at least the fire would hopefully keep the wildlife at bay.

As Stephen watched the flames dance and flicker in front of him, it suddenly occurred to him how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten or drank since he had been in the Utopiadome when the others were alive. There had to be _something_ edible in these woods. There was no point in searching for food now in the dark, so he decided to wait and find something to eat the next day. For now, all he could do was wait until sunrise and hope nothing would happen to him during the night.

* * *

Skipper, the otter who had escaped from Thornclaw, stumbled across the ground before finally deciding to rest briefly against a tree. He had tried to head in a straight line through the woods, but he was completely lost and for all he knew he could be wandering around in circles and back towards where he had escaped from.

The escape was still fresh on his mind. The group of vermin who had been guarding them all got drunk, and the prisoners saw their chance to escape. Some drunken guards had spotted the fleeing prisoners and tried clumsily to force them back. Inevitably they didn't succeed, but other (sober) vermin had heard the commotion and came rushing to their aid. The prisoners were all rounded up except for Skipper, who was able to evade capture, but not after suffering a blow to his side. Skipper had no idea what became of his fellow prisoners after his escape, but he had heard them tell him to keep running and he hoped they didn't receive as harsh a punishment as the drunken guards surely would.

Even though he'd had no other choice than to hide from his enemies due to how weak he had become from their treatment of him and the other prisoners, he felt somewhat ashamed that he hadn't at least attacked or fought back against them when he had escaped so they could have felt some of the pain they had inflicted on him.

_Don't worry,_ he thought to himself, _you'll all be grateful I didn't fight any of you when I escaped, because when I come back with others you'll know what it's like to suffer, and we'll free the other prisoners before you send another poor beast to their death._

Before he could properly catch his breath, something caught his ear: a faint but noticeable crackling sound coming from not far away. It sounded like a small fire burning.

Skipper looked around the tree, and he nearly choked. A hooded figure was crouched by a fire not too far away. It was impossible to make out the figure's face from the distance he was away from it, but only one thing ran through Skipper's mind: _vermin!_

Skipper ducked back behind the tree and peeked out. Thankfully the figure hadn't noticed him, but that hardly meant anything – the figure was still there. It was too risky to hide _this_ close to one of Thornclaw's lot, but if he tried to get away at speed, he also risked a chance of being spotted or heard. Besides, the vermin by the fire might not be alone; there could be others lurking nearby.

As quietly and slowly as he could, Skipper got to his feet and began to creep away. As he moved, Skipper looked back to see if he had been spotted, and he dared not take his eyes off the figure. But this wasn't the smartest thing to do, for as Skipper brought a footpaw down, he stepped on a brittle twig that he hadn't noticed. The twig snapped and Skipper let out a yelp as the shards of wood jabbed into his footpaw.

Stephen heard the sound of a twig snapping somewhere nearby, followed by the unmistakable sound of a male cry. He paused, and anxiously looked up.

"What was that? Who's there?" he called. His voice caught a little in his throat.

As soon as he caught sight of the figure moving, Skipper ducked as low as he could. He heard a voice, without a doubt the one belonging to the figure, asking who was hiding from him. Skipper's heart was racing. He looked up while keeping to the ground and could see the figure reaching for something. Because of the way the figure was sitting next to the fire, all Skipper could make out of the figure was a silhouette.

Stephen picked up the flashlight and pointed it in the direction of the noise, but all he could see were the dark trees and foliage around him. He shone the flashlight around wildly around in an attempt to catch any movement.

"I know you're there! Sticks don't just break on their own! A-a-and I heard your voice!" he stammered. What else should he say? Something intimidating? "Show yourself! Come out!"

As the light darted around, Skipper froze. He was familiar with lamps and torches, but how was this beast able to point light around like that? Whatever the mysterious figure was using, Skipper just didn't want to be spotted.

Stephen shook his head. It was no use asking whoever was hiding to just reveal himself unless the person was an idiot, and his shaking voice didn't sound the least bit intimidating. Despite something inside telling him to keep back, Stephen got to his feet and slowly headed in the direction of the voice. As he took each step forward, he continued to shine the flashlight around wildly. He had definitely heard someone cry out, but who _was_ hiding from him in the first place? Perhaps whoever it was had been watching him since he had stepped out of the cave? It had felt like somebody had been spying on him the whole time while he had been wandering alone in the woods – Stephen's instincts must have been correct after all. Why was this person hiding from him then? Was the person frightened or nervous of him, or what if whoever was watching him had been stalking him and was planning to attack?

Stephen slowly reached into his pocket to retrieve the pocket knife, but found there was nothing there. He gasped and felt in his other pocket frantically, but there was nothing in there either. Suddenly he remembered – he had left the pocket knife next to the fire! It was too risky going back to retrieve it now because he would lose ground and he could be attacked when he wasn't ready. The only weapons he had with him now were his fists. Had his curiosity gotten the better of him, or was it not too late to make a stand? Stephen tried to keep the stern look on his face, though he knew it was impossible for anyone to see in the darkness. After taking a deep breath, he began to step forward again.

The mysterious figure was now only a few steps away from where Skipper was hiding. Skipper's heart was racing faster and faster than ever as he watched the figure slowly get closer. What could he do? Staying on the ground meant he was just asking to be caught, but the vermin would surely make chase if he tried to run away. There was only one option left: fight with the little energy he had left.

Without warning, Skipper jumped up and lunged at the figure with a roar.

Stephen almost fell back with surprise as a dark figure suddenly sprang up from nowhere and lunged at him with a blood-curdling roar. The figure pounced at him and brought him to the floor, removing Stephen's hood in the process. However, because they were a distance from the fire, Skipper couldn't get a clear view of Stephen's face. The flashlight was thrown out of Stephen's hand and landed on the ground nearby.

Stephen grabbed his mysterious attacker's sides and tried to push it away. At first, Stephen thought he was going to be mauled to death by a ferocious wild animal, but he could feel ragged clothing on the attacker, as well as what felt like a shaggy coat. He could also hear the gasps and breathing of his attacker, and like with the cry earlier it sounded like a man. It was too dark to see his attacker other than a silhouette, but he could tell that whoever was attacking him was taller than him, but not by much.

Skipper felt the stranger's paws grab his sides, and he flinched and jumped back with a yelp as one of the stranger's paws pressed against the wound on his side. Stephen saw his chance; he jumped up and made a grab for the figure's neck with one hand, and balled his other hand into a fist. Stephen punched the figure in the face, sending him to the ground. As the figure fell, Stephen leapt at him. He grabbed the figure's neck again to throttle his attacker. He could feel what he assumed was a beard on the figure's neck, but he didn't care at that moment. All he could think of doing was fighting his attacker and then running away as quickly as possible. If there was one person watching him, there would be others, and he had no doubt they would also be hostile, especially now that he was currently involved in a fight.

Skipper made another move to get the upper hand of the fight; he grabbed the vermin's neck and pulled to the side, making the vermin lose his grip and fall to the ground. Skipper got to his feet, but the vermin managed to get up too. The two staggered around in the dark, trying to find each other, but they quickly heard the other's breathing and they charged at each other.

"I'm not goin' back! You'll never take me back!" growled Skipper.

"What are you talking about? Leave me alone!" Stephen yelled as he threw a punch, but missed. They still couldn't see each other properly in the dark. "How long have you been watching me, eh? Since the sun was still up? Don't pretend you don't know; I had a feeling I was being followed!"

Skipper grabbed Stephen by the shoulders and hoisted him up. It was still impossible to clearly see each other aside from dark sillhouettes. "I'm not falling for _that_!" Stephen was thrown to the ground. "Why'd I be followin' one o' Thornclaw's lot? You've been sent t' find me an' either capture me or kill me, an' I'm not goin' t' let that happen!"

Stephen sprang back up. "I don't know what you're talking about! You've been following me for the past few hours and making my first experience in these woods even worse!"

"I don't know what _you_ are talkin' about either!" retorted Skipper, "but if it means fighting to the death, so be it!"

The two grabbed each other's collars and dragged themselves down together. They grappled back and forth clumsily, trying to gain the upper hand over the other. Stephen suddenly wondered why they were even fighting in the first place if neither of them knew what they were fighting about, but all he knew for certain was that he was being attacked by a crazed loon who was intent on killing him, and he had to defend himself. Skipper was also wondering the same thing. The way his opponent fought and spoke didn't seem vermin-like, and there was nobeast coming to his opponent's assistance. But his opponent was quite vicious and Skipper was growing weaker from the pain in his side on top of him having run quite a distance. He was going to fight for his freedom no matter what.

As they continued to fight in the dark, Stephen quickly glanced towards the fire. An idea came to him: if he could get to the fire, he could try and scare his opponent off. Although he was sure the opponent was familiar with fire, at least he would have a weapon of sorts to defend himself with. Stephen pushed his attacker off him, got to his feet and tried to run to the fire as quickly as possible. Skipper also got up and followed, and lunged at Stephen before he could get away. The two fell down and landed head-first next to the fire. Stephen could feel his attacker on top of him and he twisted around to face him and finally see who it was that was fighting him. But before he could throw any more punches, Stephen gasped at what he saw.

The person staring back at him was not what he expected…in fact, it wasn't a person he had been fighting at all. There, crouched over him was a human-sized otter, maybe even taller than Stephen was, dressed in a ragged tunic. What he had assumed to be a beard and a shaggy coat was in fact the creature's fur. Even though it wasn't a person Stephen was looking right at, it was clear from the stunned expression on the otter's face that it too was thinking the exact same thing as what Stephen said aloud:

"…What in the world?!"


	7. VII

**Thomas the Traveler, thanks for the constructive criticism. I really appreciate your advice and I'll try and keep Skipper's character more consistent in future chapters. Funny you should mention the flashlight because I was actually planning to use it later on in the story.**

**Hamlet, thanks for the review as well. I'm glad you're liking the story so far.**

* * *

**This chapter is mostly going to be just dialogue. I'm trying to get the two characters properly introduced to one another in this chapter, but I'll apologise in advance if you're not a big fan of dialogue-heavy writing. I promise other chapters won't be like that in the future.**

* * *

The two beings stared at each other, unable to say anything or move. Stephen couldn't believe his eyes: all the time they had been fighting in the dark he had thought his attacker was another person, and it was really an otter that could move around like a human and looked a little taller than he was, and it could speak English! Stephen could see the look of bewilderment in the otter's face. Was the otter surprised by Stephen's appearance or puzzled by Stephen's own confusion? He couldn't tell, but he hoped it was the latter.

Eventually, Skipper was the one to break the silence. "I thought you were one o' Thornclaw's lot. Goodness, what are ye doin' out in the middle o' the woods?"

"I…I…" was all Stephen could say.

Skipper got to his feet and dusted off his ragged tunic. "Sorry 'bout that, mate. I've been on the run since sunset an' when I saw ye jus' sittin' there, I thought you'd been sent by Thornclaw t' catch me." After he said this, he extended a paw to Stephen. "Skipper's the name. What's yours?"

Stephen didn't know what to do at first. He was still surprised from the appearance of who he had been fighting. Was this another result of the war, or had the wildlife evolved afterwards until it had literally replaced mankind and became it? This otter had said he was on the run, so was he a criminal or someone dangerous, especially considering he had attacking him? But the otter was showing hospitality and looked like he genuinely wanted to make up for the attack, and he seemed quite friendly now he wasn't snarling threats. Stephen reached out and grabbed hold of Skipper's outstretched arm, and Skipper helped him back up.

"Uh…pleased to meet you, Skipper. I'm Stephen," he said. "I…take it you weren't following me then."

"Stephen…" Skipper repeated. "Well, it's great to have some company right now. You don't mind if I warm myself up by the fire, do ye?"

"…Oh, it's fine. Go ahead."

Skipper approached the fire and sat down by the small cliff. After a moment, Stephen made his way over and sat down next to him.

"Hungry?" asked Skipper.

"A little," replied Stephen.

Skipper reached into his pocket and took out the pieces of bread. "I've got these scraps o' bread. Not much, but at least it's something."

"That's alright," said Stephen.

Skipper handed Stephen half of the bread scraps. Stephen thanked the otter and he began to eat. Curiously, he turned to see Skipper wolfing his half of scraps as fast as he could. Stephen then turned away and looked past the fire. He spotted the flashlight still switched on and lying on the ground not too far away.

"I left the torch over there. I'll go get it before I forget," he said to no-one in particular. Stephen got up and went over to the flashlight. He picked it up, switched it off and made his way back to where he'd been sitting. Skipper watched in fascination, and as Stephen sat back down, Skipper stared at the object Stephen was holding.

"What _is_ that?" the otter asked.

"What, _this_?" Stephen responded, indicating the flashlight. Skipper nodded. "It's a torch, or flashlight as some people call them. They're used for seeing in the dark."

"So _that's_ what ye had before," realised Skipper. "So it works like a lantern?"

"Well it's used for the same purpose, but it works differently. With a lantern you need to light it with a flame, but with a torch all you do is flip the switch or press the button –" Stephen switched the flashlight on. "– and there you go."

Skipper gasped, amazed at what he had seen. "Woah! How did ye do that? You didn't light it!"

"You don't have to light one of these with a flame. It uses electricity," Stephen explained.

"Electricity?" asked Skipper. "What's that?"

"Uh…" Stephen was lost for words. Now the otter had no concept of electricity? "Well, it makes…Here, do you want to have a look at it yourself?"

Stephen handed the flashlight over to Skipper. As soon as Skipper had a hold of the flashlight, he began to forcefully press the button, making the flashlight switch on and off. The way he pressed the button on the flashlight made Stephen think of a young child figuring out how to use the telephone and punching the numbers as hard as they could. He couldn't help but grin a little and turned his attention back to his remaining scraps of bread.

"What exactly _are_ you?"

Stephen looked over from eating again. Skipper was staring right at him, and he had the bewildered look on his face that he'd had when they first saw each other in the firelight.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Stephen.

"I mean your species – your kind. You talk like a mouse but ye use strange words an' ye look like nothin' I've ever seen, an' I've never seen anybeast who used one o' these torch things before either," he said, handing the flashlight back.

Stephen's blood froze. Perhaps Skipper's initial confusion was because he didn't recognise Stephen's species after all. No…that was impossible. There had to be _some_ settlement of humans from other Utopiadomes. Maybe Skipper had at least heard of mankind? He'd heard of things he had never seen himself, so Skipper was perfectly capable of doing the same.

"Well, I'm a human…" Stephen explained. He watched for any kind of understanding from the otter, but there was nothing.

"Human," Stephen repeated. "You know – mankind?"

Skipper shook his head. "No."

"You've never heard of humans before?" Stephen gasped. _Please tell me you have_, he thought.

"Sorry mate, can't say I have."

Stephen felt his heart sink. His worst fears had been realised. "So the Utopia Project didn't succeed…"

"What's that?" Skipper asked curiously.

"Nothing…nothing…" replied Stephen. He felt like he could cry. "It'd explain why you looked as surprised as I was though. This is different to what I'm used to."

"I don't think any other beast has heard o' humans before either," said Skipper. "I've never seen or heard anybeast talk of 'em in all my life, not even those who came from outside of Mossflower. Sorry."

"Mossflower…" Stephen repeated. "What, is that the name of this place – where we are right now?"

"You've never heard o' _Mossflower_?" asked an astounded Skipper. "Where've ye been hiding all this time? If it was any other beast who said that, I'd think they'd lost their memory! Have you come from across the sea or somethin'?"

"I wish that was the case, but no, that's not how it happened. It would make more sense though." Stephen shook his head in despair and sighed. "I can tell you how I got here if you want, but I doubt you'll believe me. Are you still sure you want to hear this?"

"Yeah," Skipper replied eagerly.

"Before I tell you, can I ask how far back your history goes?"

Skipper thought for a moment. "Well…the earliest part of our history I know fairly well is Lord Brocktree's time, but even then there was a time before that. There were badger lords who ruled at Salamandastron, but not much's known about these other than a few names an' events…Why?"

"Right," said Stephen, trying to think of how to explain. "You see, a very long time ago, before Mossflower, before Lord Brocktree, before anything that happened before him, before _all_ of this existed, the world wasn't like what it is now."

"I can imagine that," said Skipper.

"Yeah…but the way it was, it was nothing like _you_ could ever imagine. You see, this place where we are now was called England and it was dominated by humans like me."

"_Really_?" Skipper asked, startled. If he had still been eating the bread, he would have choked. He stuttered for a moment, trying to say something. "W-w-what happened to your tribe? Why'd they vanish, and how'd you appear so suddenly?"

Stephen could feel memories of the war coming back. He breathed out heavily and continued. "There was a disaster and…we suddenly couldn't survive outside after it," he tried to explain, skipping over any mention of the war. He wanted to avoid talking about it. "We sealed ourselves in these underground buildings called Utopiadomes, and we would stay inside until it was safe to go back out."

"Wow, an entire tribe living below Mossflower without anybeast knowing…an' one that existed _before Salamandastron_…" said Skipper in awe. "So where's the rest o' your tribe? Did ye get separated from them? I'd have thought you'd be blind if your tribe has been underground for so long."

"Oh no; it wasn't like that," Stephen corrected. "I was one of the humans that went underground in the first place. All of us were."

"But that's impossible!" Skipper said in disbelief. "You said your tribe went underground before Mossflower existed, but…without having met a human before I'd guess ye look a similar age t' me. How'd ye survive for so many seasons without aging or dying?"

Stephen thought for a moment. How to explain? He guessed from the otter's ragged clothing and his understanding of the world that he was in a world similar to medieval England, so he doubted using words like 'suspended animation' would mean anything to him.

"We had these…coffins," Stephen said eventually. "These weren't coffins that were meant for burying the dead in; these coffins were used for keeping us alive. We would close ourselves inside them and we would go to sleep and not age at all, and we could stay inside them for…seasons," he said, noticing what unit of time Skipper had used. "Do you believe that?"

"After seeing one thing your tribe created, yes," Skipper replied, motioning to the flashlight.

"But something went wrong…" Stephen continued. "All but one of our 'coffins' stopped working, and it was decided one of us should use the last one…and it was me who was picked."

"You mean you're the last o' your tribe?"

"Perhaps…but I hope not. There were other Utopiadomes around the world, but I have no idea if other humans had the same problem we had or where the other Utopiadomes even are. I only got out because…" Stephen trailed off and thought of what to say. "You know how if you store something away properly in a box or cupboard, it'll last longer?" Skipper nodded. "Right," continued Stephen, "because the Utopiadome was designed so that if the door was sealed, the inside would look new no matter how long it was closed. I worked out not long after I woke up that while I was asleep, somebody broke into the Utopiadome and left without closing the door probably a few hundred something seasons ago, because when I woke up, everything was in ruin, and that's what made the 'coffin' I was in stop working." Because the world now seemed to be inhabited by anthropomorphic animals, it was safe for him to assume that whatever broke into the Utopiadome was a native of Mossflower.

"So somebeast found where you were resting?" Skipper frowned. "Strange that they'd keep it a secret. I've never heard anything about somebeast finding a…Utopadome, was it? A story like that would've definitely made it into our history if they'd told others about it."

"Maybe they thought nobody would believe them?" suggested Stephen. "After I woke up, I ventured out and got lost in these woods, and here I am now, and I know now that I'm the only one so far that's got out…" Stephen gazed at the crackling fire for a moment. "Well, that's my story. What's yours?"

"Well I'm not from a long forgotten past – I've lived here all my life," Skipper said with a forced chuckle. "I've had a good life 'til about a month ago when I was captured by Thornclaw – well actually, I got lost in the woods an' somebeast showed up an' said I could stay with 'im for awhile. After I had some food, I suddenly felt really tired, an' the next thing I knew I was one o' Thornclaw's prisoners. I bet the beast that took me in was working for 'im, the little runt…"

"You mentioned that name before. Who _is_ Thornclaw?" asked Stephen.

Skipper shook his head. "Even if you'd lived in Mossflower all your life, you wouldn't have 'eard o' Thornclaw. I hadn't heard 'is name 'til I was captured. He's the leader of a vermin horde, and he's tryin' to create some sort of slave business, I think."

"Vermin?" Stephen repeated.

"Yeah – horrible, nasty creatures, vermin are," said Skipper. "All they do is fight an' wreck the lives of goodbeasts an' cause trouble. We'd all be better off without them ruining Mossflower. I never liked them anyway, but after witnessing their cruelty myself, I wish I could wipe every last stinkin' one out of existence. I bet your tribe never did any o' that – you don't look the type."

"Well…" Stephen began.

But Skipper interrupted. "Most vermin leaders I've heard about in the past would march through and make themselves known, and there would be huge battles. But Thornclaw's lot are tryin' to keep as quiet as they can so nobeast finds out about them. I reckon it's 'cause he's a coward. They're slowly taking goodbeasts prisoner without getting noticed."

"Sort of like guerrilla warfare…" Stephen commented.

Skipper frowned at Stephen's unusual words. "If that's what your kind calls it…" he said, trying to make sense of it. He continued with his tale. "We'd be tied up an' thrown into a ditch in a tent with guards watching over us. Only today they got new guards and they got drunk. We saw our chance, we made an escape, but other guards recaptured the prisoners except for me. But 'cause Thornclaw's tryin' to keep hidden, that's why me escaping is so important to him – if I get to safety, I could warn somebeast to organise an army, an' that's exactly what I'm goin' to do."

This was making Stephen more nervous by the minute. Thornclaw didn't sound like somebody he wanted to cross paths with, but war was the very thing he wanted to avoid most of all, especially after what he had witnessed what was now long ago…

"What does he do with the prisoners?" Stephen questioned. He knew the answer wouldn't be a positive one, but at least it would distract his thoughts from the war. Was that a selfish thing to do?

"He makes us work," explained Skipper, "but we're not being forced to build something like a fortress. We're forced to do jobs like untangle ropes an' the like; I'm certain he only does it t' exhaust us. Thornclaw's so worried o' being discovered, he forces us prisoners to whisper and he even gags our mouths sometimes when we work."

Stephen grimaced at the thought of what Skipper had described. It reminded him of the workhouses he had learnt about in history, but worse.

"Does he kill any prisoners?" he asked.

"No…Yes…Well, not directly," answered Skipper. "There's a large hill next to where Thornclaw's hiding, and there's a small entrance to a cave there. Every evening, one prisoner is selected. They're led up the hill to this cave, an' then they're just thrown in. They're never seen again, but we'd hear their cries for help not long after they're forced in. One o' the worst things to hear, ye know."

Stephen was taken aback for a moment. He knew just how horrible it was to hear the cries of friends dying in agony, but he tried not to think of it. As much as he didn't want it to, his curiosity was growing.

"What happens to them?" he eventually asked.

"Nobeast knows entirely, except for Thornclaw; he's very secretive about it. We were only told that if we were selected, we'd be sent to…" He paused for a moment, trying to remember how to pronounce the name. "…'Dacnirah'?"

It was almost as if Skipper now thought Stephen would know what the word meant and was looking for any answer, like a reversal of what happened a moment earlier, but even Skipper had a feeling that Stephen wouldn't know either.

"What's 'Dacnirah'?" Stephen inevitably asked.

"Dunno. Even the guards don't really know." Skipper's voice went even lower, almost growling, and he resisted the urge to shudder. "But we all reckon Dacnirah is somebeast that lives in the cave. That's what I've heard the guards believe too, plus what happens to the prisoners before they're sent down…"

"What do you mean?"

"When a prisoner's selected, they're given a wooden sword and then told to try an' make it out alive," explained Skipper. "We reckon it's Thornclaw's way o' trying to kill Dacnirah so he can hide his army an' prisoners away in the hill."

"If that's what he wants, why doesn't he just send his own thugs down there? Wouldn't they have more experience in combat and not be worn down from slavery? Plus they'd have proper weaponry and armour," said Stephen.

"Prisoners are expendable to him, I suppose." Skipper paused for a moment. "But the way those innocent beasts cried for help, I dread t' think what could be in that cave. Whatever Dacnirah is, it's something big, an' something evil."

Stephen felt a chill run down his spine.

"I'd rather nobeast had to find out for themselves," Skipper commented. "Some things are better left unanswered. I heard I was meant to be sent to that cave today, but I escaped. No doubt they're out lookin' for me…and no doubt they sent another poor beast to their doom in my place."

Before Skipper could continue, he began to feel a burning pain in his side. He knew exactly what it was and tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help but wince a little.

"Are you alright?" asked Stephen, concerned.

"I'm fine…I've just got a stomach ache, that's all," Skipper replied.

"Right," said Stephen with uncertainty. He had a feeling Skipper was trying to put a brave face on something serious. "You said you were going to warn somebody. Who is it you're going to tell?"

This question made Skipper perk up. "The goodbeasts o' Redwall Abbey," replied Skipper proudly.

"Redwall Abbey…" Stephen repeated. Immediately, images of grand medieval buildings entered his mind, but he had to make sure he was thinking along the right lines. "What's Redwall Abbey?"

Skipper chuckled. "Now I know you're not from round 'ere. Everybeast in Mossflower knows about Redwall Abbey. It's a place o' peace where everybeast is friendly an' they'll help anybeast that's in need o' shelter. But," he continued, "it's also been attacked by vermin leaders over the seasons who wanted to destroy it or take over. Thornclaw'll definitely see Redwall Abbey as a target an' will want to find a way in an' take prisoners without being seen. But the funny thing is that Thornclaw doesn't know where Redwall Abbey is, and he's too scared to go looking for it in case somebeast sees him. If I'm able to warn the goodbeasts o' Redwall Abbey, they'll be able to do something to stop Thornclaw an' warn others who could easily help defeat him."

"So do you work there? At Redwall Abbey, I mean?"

"Me? I'm the otter leader o' Redwall Abbey. It's also where I grew up and live. I wanted to escape from Thornclaw in time for –" Skipper was cut off abruptly as he lurched forward and groaned in pain.

"What's wrong?" asked Stephen firmly.

Skipper didn't reply. Instead, he looked to the wound on his side. His fears had been realised: through the fur around the wound, the skin was completely red. Although it wasn't bleeding now, the wound appeared to be nastily infected. Stephen's eyes widened at the sight of the wound – he hadn't noticed it until now.

"Bloody hell…" gasped Stephen. "I didn't do that in the scuffle, did I?

"No…" Skipper replied. All of a sudden it felt like the world was weighing down on his shoulders. "I got it from one o' Thornclaw's lot when I escaped."

"You'll need to get that seen to; it'll get worse," Stephen commented.

"I know," replied Skipper, "but I don't think I'll be able to last much longer like this. I have no idea whereabouts I am, but I know Redwall Abbey is far away from here and I don't know of any nearby healers, or any goodbeasts. This wound's goin' to get the better o' me."

"Then we're just going to have to find someone, won't we?" said Stephen.

"_We_?" Skipper repeated.

"Yeah. I'll help you make the journey."

"Wha – would you?" asked Skipper. He seemed alarmed. "Thornclaw's soldiers'll be tryin' t' find me and I'll be slowing you down. If they find us…well…ye don't want to become a prisoner, let me tell you –"

"I don't care about them," Stephen interrupted. After witnessing a horrendous war that was able to destroy his world, the thought of some animal soldiers didn't scare him, Stephen thought. "You need to warn the people at that abbey of what's happening, and if you need to get your wound treated to in order to make the journey, I'll help you find someone who can make you well again so you can make it there. If you're able to warn others of Thornclaw, you'll save countless innocent lives because more people will be able to do something about Thornclaw, but you'll never make it on your own in the state you're in. What if your infection became too much for you to carry on?"

"If I get too weak an' die, then _you'll_ have to tell 'em about Thornclaw," said Skipper grimly.

"I can't deliver the message myself," argued Stephen. "What'll they think when they see a creature they've never heard of telling them of danger that I've never seen for myself? As nice as they all sound, I don't think they'll believe me. You said you're a respected figure at Redwall, so they'll know that everything you tell them is true if it's you who warns them. So if warning others will save lives, I'm going to help you find someone to heal your wound and help you make the journey if it's the last thing I do!"

"That's mighty brave, Stephen," said Skipper. "Alright, you can help. I'll have to repay you somehow…Hey, d'ye have anywhere to stay?"

"No. I've got no idea where I'd find somewhere to stay, even if it was only for the night. I was hoping to find a human settlement, but from what you've said, I'm guessing there aren't any. I don't know what I'm going to do," said Stephen.

"How about when we get to Redwall Abbey, you stay with us?" proposed Skipper.

"Really?" Stephen asked, surprised. "I-I don't know…Will they be fine with that?"

"Of course! The doors are open for anybeast to stay, whether they be travellin' or without a home! You'll be welcomed with open arms! It'll be better than stayin' out alone in the open, that's for sure. What d'ye think?"

"Well…okay," Stephen replied. "Thanks. I'd have nowhere to go otherwise."

"Then it's settled!" Skipper exclaimed. "You help me get t' Redwall Abbey an' you'll have a roof over your head. We'd better rest for now. It's probably goin' t' be a long journey before we reach Redwall. I'll try an' get to sleep with this wound. I don't want it to keep me up all night."

Skipper rolled over onto his right side, keeping his wound away from the ground while staying close to the warmth of the fire.

"You won't…_die_ during the night, will you?" Stephen wondered.

"G'night," said Skipper.

"Goodnight…" muttered Stephen. Had Skipper not heard him, or was he avoiding the question?

It wasn't too long before Skipper was fast asleep. Stephen, however, was still wide awake. It was impossible for him to get comfortable on the bare ground, and despite being near the fire, he still felt very cold. He knew he wasn't going to get much sleep.

As Stephen lay there, he gazed up at the stars through the treetops. It had been a long time since he had last seen the night sky, and even longer since he had seen so many stars due to the city lights of his world. How beautiful it all looked, he thought. He tried to identify any star constellations he could see in the small portion of the night sky that was visible, but he couldn't recognise any. The stars would obviously move over time, so the night sky wouldn't look the same as it had when mankind last walked the earth. Once again, this new world seemed even more different to what Stephen was familiar with, and now even the night sky was filling him with incredible loneliness and isolation. He was quite possibly the only survivor of the Utopia Project, or at least the only person who had emerged from one of the Utopiadomes, and now he was stranded in a world that had changed significantly since the war had ended mankind's domination.

Despite this, something else inside Stephen told him not to worry. Mossflower was different to what he remembered back in his old life, but he was still on the same planet. In the hours he had spent wandering about through the forest, he already had company from someone who seemed friendly as well as a new place to stay. The way Skipper had described Redwall Abbey made it sound like a paradise, and he had been reassured that he would be welcome there, and although he was confused as to how an anthropomorphic otter in a world absent of mankind could speak English, at least he was able to communicate to the locals. The idea of the Utopia Project was so that makind could start again, but this time not fight and try to live in harmony with the world they would find when they left the Utopiadomes. Stephen was the first human to set foot in Mossflower Woods or anywhere in this new world, and within a day he was helping a resident he had only just met find a healer and Redwall Abbey because it was the right thing to do. For the first time since initially leaving the cave, things were beginning to turn for the best. Perhaps this world wasn't as unwelcoming a place as he first thought?

"I've got a whole new world to explore. _Now if only I can get to sleep…!_" Stephen sighed irritably as he squirmed a little on the ground. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**I just need to clarify something: when Skipper sad that Stephen talked "like a mouse", by that I mean Stephen talks with the same accent as the mice do in the Redwall series - that is, a basic standard English accent.**

**I also need to say that in future I may take longer to update this fanfic. I have rough notes of the overall plot so I've got something to follow rather than make the plot up as I go along and suffer from writer's block; ****it's just that I'm not going to have a lot of free time for awhile, so the chapters take longer to write as a result.** I definitely have no intentions of abandoning this though.


	8. VIII

**Thomas the Traveler, thanks for the review and for notifying me about the word substitutes. Sorry if I'm sounding like an idiot here, but could you please let me know where they are? I'm willing to go back and correct any errors I missed.**

* * *

It felt like it took an eternity for the night to pass. The sun was now rising and there was a cold breeze blowing through the trees. Stephen had no idea how many hours it had been since he had fallen asleep or even what time it was in the morning. All he knew was that he hadn't had very much sleep due to the uncomfortable ground and the threat of a sudden vermin attack, and his head and eyes were aching from the little rest he'd had. Stephen rubbed his forehead and cast a look at Skipper. The otter wasn't fairing much better than he was; Skipper had an ashen look on his face and he looked like he wanted to just lie back down again beside the fire, which had now burnt out.

"How are you feeling now?" asked Stephen.

"I don't feel well, mate," Skipper groaned. He sounded a little embarrassed, like he didn't want to be seen like this. "Urgh, my side's killin' me…"

Now that there was daylight, Stephen could see the full extent of Skipper's wound, and it looked even worse than it had the night before. The otter needed to find a healer or someone who could properly treat the wound and make him better as soon as possible, Stephen thought. He would've tried to help Skipper himself – even though he wasn't a vet, Stephen assumed that an anthropomorphic creature like Skipper would require similar medical attention to a human – but he wasn't carrying any medicines and he had no idea how to make any with the plants and objects around him. There wasn't even anything to substitute for bandages.

"How long do you think you can manage?" asked Stephen.

"Dunno. I feel like I'm halfway in the Dark Forest already," Skipper uttered.

"Right, then we'd better get going now," said Stephen urgently. He guessed what Skipper meant by 'Dark Forest', and it didn't sound at all good. "Which direction were you planning on going?"

"I was thinking _this_ way," said Skipper as he pointed in a direction that neither of them had came from.

"We'll go that way then. Can you walk alright?" Stephen questioned.

"I can manage, I think."

Skipper got to his feet, steadying himself against the rock they had been resting next to. He stumbled a little, but he seemed to be able to stand on his own. How long he would be able to remain on his feet, Stephen didn't know, but it definitely wouldn't be the whole day.

As they prepared to leave, Stephen picked up the flashlight and the pocketknife. This caught Skipper's attention, and he frowned at the unfamiliar sight of the pocketknife.

"What's that?" asked Skipper as they began to walk away.

"It's a pocketknife. I thought it might come in useful," Stephen explained. He handed the pocketknife over to let the otter have a closer look. Skipper held it up to his eyes, and after a couple of seconds he frowned.

"This is a _knife_? Where's the blade?"

Stephen took the pocketknife back and held it up to Skipper's view. "If you want the knife, you just flip it out like this…" Skipper watched as Stephen demonstrated pulling the blade out from the pocketknife's body, "…and you can do the same for the other things it has, like the scissors or corkscrew or whatever you want to use." Again, Stephen demonstrated by revealing the other blades and tools the pocketknife had. "It isn't a weapon…well you _could_ use it as a weapon, but you're not supposed to."

"That's incredible," said Skipper as he gazed at the pocketknife. "I know it's nothin' big, but…this thing could make life so much easier. An' the torch!"

"Don't get too excited – it's just a pocketknife," Stephen said with a grin.

"I'm just amazed, that's all," said Skipper. "All the goodbeasts I know would be as well. I'm surprised nobeast ever thought of making one o' these knives before. If that's just something small yer kind could make, the bigger things must've been…" Skipper couldn't think of a word to describe it. "Your kind must've been really smart to make something like that. I reckon we could've learned lots from them if they hadn't all vanished."

"Hmm…" was all Stephen could say. The conversation had lifted their spirits, but he had no idea how to reply to that.

"Incredible. Absolutely incredible," he heard Skipper mutter.

As they walked on, all Stephen could think of was how blown away Skipper had been by the flashlight and the pocketknife. They were objects that he and mankind had taken for granted, but in this world they were the equivalent of a revolutionary new invention that people would be amazed at the very thought of. Maybe Skipper was right? Maybe the people (or animals) of Mossflower could learn from mankind? Yes, he could teach things to others that could help advance their society and it would be great to feel like he could be of some use to this world.

But did he have the right? There was no forgetting the war he had lived through, and if that was what mankind had ended up doing with their technology, what if the people of Mossflower would act the same with the knowledge they'd learn from him? It was possible; the society he had seen so far was similar to a human one, and evil did exist in this world – they were already fleeing from one tyrant, so there were bound to be others. Skipper may have been impressed at something that was intended to be genuinely efficient like a pocketknife or flashlight, but Stephen was certain the otter's reaction would be the complete opposite if he knew where mankind's quest for technology had led. He still hadn't told Skipper about the war, so what would happen if the otter _did_ find out about mankind's self-inflicted fate? He might become fearful or hostile towards Stephen in case he thought the human was just like his superiors in the war, and others in Mossflower would probably do the same if they found out too. He'd better keep it to himself for now, or perhaps for the rest of his life. It was going to be a huge secret to keep, but for the safety of Mossflower and his own wellbeing it would be wiser for him to adapt to the world around him first before revealing too many facts about the world he had left behind.

_It may be extreme measures,_ thought Stephen, _but I'd rather be safe than sorry. If I caused Mossflower's destruction, even if I never intended to, I don't think I could live with the guilt. Besides… _(He glanced back at Skipper)_ …I've got more important things right now._

The hours passed, and the sun continued to rise higher in the sky. As time went on, Skipper's pace was gradually slowing down, though he was still able to walk on his own. Stephen was growing more worried by the minute; they needed to find someone urgently, but there was nobody else in sight, and on top of that they were completely lost. They hadn't seen anything other than trees of varying size, and Stephen had a feeling that they were walking around in circles. After hearing what Skipper had told him about Thornclaw and his soldiers, he dreaded crossing paths with them. He _was_ however grateful that it wasn't raining – their progress would most likely be much slower if it was – but the thought of water made him feel even thirstier than he already was. Neither of them had drunk or ate since the night before, and Stephen's second-top priority at that moment was finding some food and water for both of them.

Stephen paused and looked around him for any signs of movement, but all he could see were more trees surrounding them. He sighed in frustration and shook his head.

"It's no use. We've probably been this way already!" said Stephen.

"No we haven't," Skipper corrected.

"Really? I could've sworn we already have…" Stephen commented. He stepped forward, not taking his eyes off the trees around him. "Everything looks the same –"

"OY, LOOK OUT!" Skipper suddenly cried out. He made a grab for Stephen's arm and yanked him back.

Stephen was jerked back and he stumbled. "What? What is it?" he asked frantically. His heartbeat had suddenly shot up.

"_That!_"

Stephen looked down at the ground and saw what Skipper had warned him about. In front of them was an opening in the ground. It was small enough to walk around, but it was large enough for someone or somebeast to fall into if they weren't looking. The two friends slowly approached the hole and knelt to look down into it. The bottom wasn't visible, as the sides of the hole just faded into blackness.

"Okay, you were right – we haven't been this was yet," Stephen said, still gasping for air. "How far down do you think it goes?" he asked as they stared down into the hole.

"Far enough t' kill, probably," said Skipper.

"Good thing you spotted this," said Stephen. "If one of us fell in, we'd be dead for sure. Thanks…"

As Stephen got to his feet and took a couple of steps back, Skipper continued to gaze nervously into the hole. All of a sudden, a grin spread across the otter's face, and he spun around to face Stephen.

"Wait! I've got an idea!" exclaimed Skipper. "Have ye still got that knife?"

Stephen took the pocketknife and handed it to Skipper. "What do you want to use it for?"

"Just watch," the otter replied.

Skipper guided the blade to one of his sleeves and, with the little strength he had left, he proceeded to cut pieces of it off. When the sleeve was lying cut up on the ground, Skipper took the pieces of fabric and placed them around the hole. Stephen couldn't believe it; had Skipper gone mad?

"What are you doing?" Stephen gasped in disbelief. "You can't leave a trail for the soldiers!"

"I'm not," Skipper responded as he continued to scatter the fabric around the hole. "I'm goin' to distract 'em."

Stephen glanced down at Skipper's handiwork. "What's _that_ going to do?"

"Just if they get here an' see this, they're so dumb they'll think I fell down the hole," explained Skipper as he stood up carefully. "Then they won't be botherin' us."

"Are you sure they'll fall for that?" Stephen asked incredulously. "I know you hate Thornclaw and his followers, but I don't think they'll be _that_ stupid."

Skipper placed a paw on Stephen's shoulder. "Mate, this is _vermin_ we're talkin' about. They're nowhere near as clever as goodbeasts like us – never have been, never will be. That's why they've never won anything."

"If you say so…" Stephen responded. He still wasn't certain despite Skipper's optimism. "Well, let's get going again," he said after a moment. "If they haven't given up the search yet, they'll have started by now."

* * *

Indeed Stephen was right, for as they spoke three vermin soldiers were tramping through Mossflower Woods. They were the three rats that Thornclaw had 'promoted' the previous evening. The short rat with the chipped tooth was leading the way, and he had an irritated expression on his face. Behind him was the large rat, and at the back was the thin rat who looked so uneasy you could imagine him fainting at the slightest shock. As they walked on, the short rat was muttering something under his breath.

"Skally, yer not still in a huff, are yer?" asked the thin rat.

"What d'yer think?" the short rat with the chipped tooth grumbled. "If we haff ter get up that early _ev'ry_ mornin'…"

"Alright! I was jus' wonderin'. Calm down," said the thin rat.

"Aw, jus' shuddup, will yer?" the short rat snapped. "The sooner we catch this stinkin' otter, the better. I can't be bothered an' if I ever get told ter calm down again…Hey, look at that!" he suddenly said, looking straight ahead. Skally rushed ahead, forcing the other two rats to quicken their pace to keep up. When they caught up with him, they realised what he had taken interest in.

They had stumbled across the remains of a fire that looked like it had burnt out sometime ago. The rats paced around the fire, looking about.

"Looks like somebeast was 'ere before us," Skally commented. "Don't yer see what this means, lads?"

"Nah," said the tall rat with a deep voice. "It jus' looks like a fire ter me."

"I know that," hissed Skally. "What I meant was this mus' ter been where th' otter stayed the night."

"This ain't that far from where Crad gave up searchin'," said the thin rat. "I told 'im not ter give up before we went back…"

"Aye, well Crad was jus' too lazy ter do a job prop'ly," Skally interrupted. "Yer workin' fer me now, an' yer'll see I'm better than 'im 'cos I'm not gonna let some waterdog give us the slip."

"Duh, which way d'yer think 'e's gone?" asked the large rat.

"Can yer not work anyfin' out yerself?" demanded Skally. He put a paw to his head and sighed in annoyance. "Th' otter went _that_ way," he said, pointing in a particular direction.

"How d'yer know that?" the large rat questioned.

Skally groaned. "Blunty mate, can yer not see the ground? Have a look." As he spoke, he pointed at the ground. "Can yer see those footprints goin' over there? Look like they belong ter an otter, don't they?"

"Duh-huh!" chuckled the large rat, whose name was Blunttooth. "Yer really sharp, yer know."

"I know I am, an' that's the way we're goin'," Skally added. "Come on, 'e shouldn't be too 'ard ter find – got 'imself hit in the side, 'e did. Really nasty an' all. I want ter be there when 'e's sent ter Dacnirah."

Skally started in the direction of the footprints, with Blunttooth following close behind him. The thin rat remained standing near the fire, his eyes scanning the footprints in confusion. Although there were otter footprints, there was something not quite right that Skally or Blunttooth hadn't drawn attention to or noticed.

"Hey, what about these other footprints?" he called. "They don't look like anyfin' I've ever seen."

Skally gritted his teeth and he wheeled around with an urgent look on his face. "Weezel, will yer _hurry up_ before 'e gets away?" he snarled.

"Okay, coming!" the thin rat said hurriedly, and he dashed over towards the others. _The nerve of him to insult Crad like that_, he thought. But there was no point in arguing with a beast with such a temper as Skally. Who – or what – the mysterious footprints belonged to puzzled him, but if he wondered aloud about it he would probably get yelled at for being distracted. The other set of prints were headed in the direction the otter had went, but that didn't necessarily mean the otter and the owner of the mystery footprints had passed this way at the same time…did it?

* * *

Stephen and Skipper were still making their way through Mossflower Woods, and their progress was slowing down even more. As the day went on Skipper grew weaker and weaker, and by now he could just barely stagger on his own or lift his footpaws off the ground, though he didn't want any help walking despite Stephen's insisting. Both of them knew it was to do with Skipper's infected wound, and if he didn't get proper help soon…

Stephen didn't want to think about it. He had lost all his friends and family; he didn't want to add another name to the list, even if he had only known that someone for not even a whole day, and even if it wasn't a human.

Eventually one of Skipper's footpaws made contact with a stone on the ground and he tripped. Skipper came crashing to the ground with a thud, unable to stop himself from falling.

"Oof!" the otter cried out.

Stephen turned around at the noise and, upon seeing Skipper lying on the ground, rushed over to help.

"What happened? Are you alright?" asked Stephen. He reached down and helped the otter get back to his feet.

"Urgh, I tripped over something," said Skipper. As he stood up, his legs wobbled and he was leaning over in exhaustion. "Never mind me; I'm fine."

"Skipper, I really think I should help you walk," said Stephen, concerned. "I know we'll still be walking slowly, but it'll make the journey much easier for you. You can barely even walk on your own, for goodness sake."

The otter sighed. As much as he wanted to carry on unaided, the human was right if they were ever going to see Redwall again or find somebeast. "Alright then," he mumbled, the embarrassed tone back in his voice.

Stephen took Skipper's right arm and rested it across his shoulders. With his left hand, he got hold of Skipper's left side to support him, being careful to avoid touching the wound. When he was certain he was supporting most of the otter's weight, Stephen trudged on with Skipper by him, like a soldier helping an injured comrade get to safety…something he had witnessed before. Despite Skipper being taller than him, he didn't weigh all that much, most likely a result of the otter's treatment at the hands of Thornclaw. Skipper's legs were still trembling, but he was still able to walk a little.

As they made their way forward, something other than themselves and the rustling of leaves could be heard. It was faint, but there was no mistaking the sound of flowing water from somewhere nearby.

"Can you hear that? It sounds like a river," said Stephen.

"Yeah," replied Skipper. "It's comin' from up ahead."

Stephen and Skipper plodded forward in the direction of the sound. They could see the trees had all suddenly halted in a line, so there must be something directly ahead of them. Sure enough, they realised as they passed through the line of trees that they'd arrived at one of the banks of a wide river that stretched out in front of them to the other side, which was also heavily wooded. The water was flowing from right to left with a tremendous force, making it bubble and froth aggressively and sound like it was boiling.

"At least we've found some water to drink," said Stephen. "You didn't cross any rivers when you escaped, did you?"

"No," answered Skipper. His voice was just barely audible over the river. "If we cross this river, we'll have some distance between us and them – definitely."

Stephen looked down at the churning water and gulped. "Uh…It looks a bit dangerous, don't you think? I reckon we'd be better finding a safer point to cross."

"We could try followin' the river back to its source," said Skipper. "It'll get shallower the further up we go an' the other side'll be closer."

"That's probably our best bet," said Stephen. "I don't think you could make it across here the way you are now."

"If I wasn't in this state, I'd be able t' swim across easily," Skipper grumbled as they set off again.

"To be honest, I don't think I could even risk it," Stephen commented, and he looked down at the river for another time. "I can swim, but I can't make it across something like _that_."

The two friends didn't speak for awhile. Skipper was feeling weaker by the second and Stephen didn't want to bother him too much. He remembered being ill as a child and feeling like he didn't have the energy to speak despite his parents asking him repeated questions the whole time about how he felt. The line of trees had stopped a short distance away from the riverbank so the two friends were able to trail along the side of the river without having to move their way around oncoming trees.

Fortunately as Skipper predicted, the river began to narrow and the water grew calmer as they continued, but it was hardly a time to celebrate or feel relieved. Skipper was breathing more and more heavily as they walked, his head was down, his eyes were shut and it was now at the point where his feet were dragging themselves across the ground. The river twisted and turned several times, and now Stephen was beginning to feel exhausted. Even though they had probably not travelled an extremely long distance up the river, it still felt like they had walked alongside it for miles. There was no question that Skipper was going to die very soon unless through sheer luck. Stephen didn't believe in any gods or deities, but secretly in his mind he was praying for help to arrive.

As they arrived at another bend in the river, Stephen glanced around to see what was further upriver. The sight that greeted him at first made Stephen think he was seeing things, but when he quickly realised that it was real he almost jumped for joy. On the opposite side of the river under the branches of a willow tree was a small wooden hut with a thatched roof and stone chimney, and sitting on the riverbank by a wooden bridge was a hedgehog throwing pebbles into the water. Their luck hadn't run out just yet!

"Skipper, look!" Stephen exclaimed. He shook the otter by the shoulder with his free hand to rouse him. Before Stephen could worry if his friend was unconscious, Skipper slowly lifted his head up and opened his bloodshot eyes.

"Look!" Stephen pointed towards the hedgehog with his free hand. "We've found company! They might be able to help you!"

"…Birro…" Skipper managed to say.

"What was that?" asked Stephen.

There was no reply. Skipper's head drooped again, and Stephen suddenly felt the otter's body sag as his shaking legs finally gave way. Stephen caught Skipper before he could hit the ground and possibly hurt himself more, and carefully placed him on the ground in a sitting position by a tree, with Skipper's back leaning against it. He could hear the otter's hoarse breath as he stood back up. If the hedgehog had gone or didn't know how to help, then the friend that he had only met the night before was going to die right there.

Stephen looked over in the direction of the hedgehog, making sure it was still there. Thankfully, it was still sitting there throwing stones.

"Hey!" Stephen called over.

Immediately the hedgehog looked up, startled. Stephen had gotten its attention, but it couldn't see them because they were still around the corner.

"Over here!" yelled Stephen frantically.

The hedgehog abandoned his stone-throwing and crossed the bridge to see what the commotion was. As he made it to the other side of the river and hurried over, he was greeted with a sight that made him almost stop in his tracks.

Standing there was a bizarre-looking creature he had never seen before. The creature was dressed in a maroon-coloured outfit that covered its entire body save for its head and paws, though it was wearing dark shoes on its feet. The only visible fur on the creature was a thick brown clump on top of its head, and it had no tail. On the ground by the mysterious character was a very thin, ragged-looking otter that was barely breathing.

The bizarre creature stepped forward and spoke. "Please, it's my friend," it – no, he – said while motioning to the almost-unconscious otter. "He's been stabbed and needs help! We've been walking all day looking for someone."

The hedgehog just stood there in bewilderment for a moment, still trying to comprehend what he was looking at. After a moment, he finally spoke.

"Righto. You grab 'is legs an' I'll get 'is arms."

Stephen did as he was told, and they were quickly carrying Skipper towards the bridge, with the hedgehog leading the way.

"What's 'is name?" the hedgehog inquired.

"Skipper," Stephen replied.

This almost caused the hedgehog to let go of the otter and he stopped in his tracks. "_Skipper_?"

The hedgehog gulped and looked down at the unconscious otter with a shocked expression for a moment.

"Yeah; we're trying to get to Redwall Abbey. That's where he comes from," Stephen explained.

"Er…w-w-well let's get 'im inside," the hedgehog stammered, and he resumed walking. "Try an' keep 'im steady as best ye can."

Even though they still weren't in the clear, Stephen couldn't help but feel a wave of relief sweep through his body as they carried Skipper to the hut. If the hedgehog was able to help Skipper, then they would soon be on their way to Redwall Abbey at last, provided they weren't captured by Thornclaw's soldiers. Only time would tell if Skipper was going to recover now.


End file.
